THE  LADIES 


99 


t  j't'f* 


Ca.theri-nf.  RvtaL,  Aixi, 


•'/' 


THE  LADIES!" 

A    SHINING    CONSTELLATION    OF 
WIT    AND    BEAUTY 


BY 
E.  BARRINGTON,  y&<L 


Illustrated  with  Portraits 


THE  ATLANTIC  MONTHLY  PRESS 
BOSTON 


Copyright,  1922,  by 
THE  ATLANTIC  MONTHLY  PRESS 


First  Impression,  September,  1911 
Second  Impression,  December,  1912 


PRINTED  IN  THE 
UNITED  STATES  OF  AMERICA 


PREFACE 

THE  aim  of  these  stories  is  not  historical  exactitude 
nor  unbending  accuracy  in  dates  or  juxtaposition. 
They  are  rather  an  attempt  to  re-create  the  person 
alities  of  a  succession  of  charming  women,  ranging 
from  Elizabeth  Pepys,  wife  of  the  Diarist,  to  Fanny 
Burney  and  her  experiences  at  the  Court  of  Queen 
Charlotte.  As  I  have  imagined  them,  so  I  have  set 
them  forth,  and  if  what  is  written  can  at  all  revive 
their  perished  grace  and  the  unfading  delight  of  days 
that  now  belong  to  the  ages,  and  to  men  no  more,  I 
shall  not  have  failed.  Much  is  imagination,  more  is 
truth,  but  which  is  which  I  scarcely  can  tell  myself. 
I  have  wished  to  set  them  in  other  circumstances  than 
those  we  know. 

What  would  Elizabeth  Pepys  have  felt  if  she  had 
read  the  secrets  of  the  Diary  ?  If  Stella  and  Vanessa 
had  met  —  Ah,  that  is  a  tenderness  and  terror  almost 
beyond  all  thinking !  How  would  my  Lady  Mary's 
smarting  pride  have  blistered  herself  and  others  if 
the  Fleet  marriage  of  her  eccentric  son — whose  wife 
she  never  saw  —  had  actually  come  between  the  wind 
and  her  nobility  ?  Was  there  no  finer,  more  ethe 
real  touch  in  Elizabeth  Gunning's  stolen  marriage 
with  her  Duke  than  is  recorded  in  Horace  Wai- 
pole's  malicious  gossip?  Could  such  beauty  have 
been  utterly  sordid?  What  were  the  fears  and 
hopes  of  the  lovely  Maria  Walpole  as,  after  long 
concealment  of  her  marriage,  she  trembled  on  the 


M180C55 


PREFACE 

steps  of  a  throne  ?  How  did  those  about  her  judge  of 
Fanny  Burney  in  the  Digby  affair  ?  Did  she  wholly 
conceal  her  heart?  From  her  Diary  we  know  what 
she  wished  to  feel  —  very  certainly  not  entirely  what 
she  felt. 

Perhaps  of  all  these  women  we  know  best  that  Eliz 
abeth  who  never  lived  —  Elizabeth  Bennet.  She  is 
the  most  real  because  her  inner  being  is  laid  open  to 
us  by  her  great  creator.  I  have  not  dared  to  touch 
her  save  as  a  shadow  picture  in  the  background  of  the 
quiet  English  country-life  which  now  is  gone  for  ever. 
But  her  fragrance  —  stimulating  rather  than  sweet, 
like  lavender  and  rosemary — could  not  be  forgotten  in 
any  picture  of  the  late  eighteenth  or  early  nineteenth 
centuries  and  among  the  women  whom  all  the  world 
remembers.  They,  one  and  all,  can  only  move  in 
dreamland  now.  Their  lives  are  but  stories  in  a 
printed  book,  and  a  heroine  of  Jane  Austen's  is  as  real 
as  Stella  or  the  fair  Walpole.  So  I  apologise  for  noth 
ing.  I  have  dreamed.  I  may  hope  that  others  will 
dream  with  me. 

E.  BARRINGTON 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 

I.  THE  DIURNAL  OF  MRS  ELIZTH  PEPYS          ...         1 

Had  she  Read  her  Husband's  Diary 

II.  THE  MYSTERY  OF  STELLA 23 

Why  might  not  she  and  Vanessa  have  met  9 

III.  MY  LADY  MARY 57 

To  Dispel  the  Mystery  of  Lady  Mary 
Wortley  Montagu's  quitting  England  in  1739 

IV.  THE  GOLDEN  VANITY 91 

A  Story  of  the  First  Irish  Beauties — the  Gunnings 

V.  THE  WALPOLE  BEAUTY 159 

A  Tale  in  Letters  about  Maria  Walpole,  Countess 
of  Waldegrave,  Duchess  of  Gloucestert  Niece  of  Horace 
Walpole 

VI.  A  BLUESTOCKING  AT  COURT 189 

Why  Fanny  Burneyt  Madame  D'Arblayt  retired  from 
Court  in  1791 

VII.  THE  DARCYS  OF  ROSING       ......     235 

A  Reproduction  to  some  of  the  characters  of  Miss 
Austen's  Novels 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

ELIZABETH  GUNNING Frontispiece 

Portrait  by  Catherine  Reed 

MRS  PEPYS  AS  ST.  KATHARINE      .......        2 

Portrait  by  Hayts 

ESTHER  JOHNSON,  "STELLA". 24 

Portrait  by  Kneller 

HESTER  VANHOMRIGH,  "VANESSA" 44 

LADY  MARY  WORTLEY  MONTAGU 58 

Portrait  by  Kneller 

MARIA  GUNNING      .......       .       .      92 

Portrait  by  Cotes 

MARIA  WALPOLE  AND  HER  DAUGHTER,  ELIZABETH  LAURA,    160 

Portrait  by  Reynolds 

FANNY  BURNEY,  MADAME  D'ARBLAY          .       .  .     190 

After  Portrait  by  E.  F.  Burney 


THE  DIURNAL  OF 
ELIZABETH  PEPYS 


ELIZABETH  PEPYS 
164-0-1669 

"So  home  to  dinner  with  my  wife,  very  pleasant 
and  pleased  with  one  another's  company,  and  in 
our  general  enjoyment  one  of  another,  better  we 
think  than  most  other  couples  do." 

Elizabeth  St.  Michel,  daughter  of  a  French 
Huguenot,  was  fifteen  when  Pepys  married  her. 
She  was  only  twenty-nine  when  she  died.  Pepys 
himself  at  then*  marriage  was  twenty-two.  It  is 
the  skirmishing  of  young  folk  that  he  describes 
when  he  reports  such  animated  scenes  as  the  occa 
sion  when  his  wife  threatened  him  with  the 
red-hot  tongs.  They  had  their  brisk  encounters 
and  then*  affectionate  interludes  as  well,  when 
"very  merry  we  were  with  our  pasty,  well- 
baked,  and  a  good  dish  of  roasted  chickens; 
pease,  lobsters,  strawberries." 

In  odd  moments,  Pepys  applied  himself  to  his 
wife's  education.  Dismissing  her  dancing-master 
by  reason  of  jealousy,  he  began  instead  a  course 
in  Arithmetic.  He  himself  taught  her  Addition, 
Subtraction,  and  the  Multiplication  Tables ;  but, 
says  he,  "I  purpose  not  to  trouble  her  yet  with 
Division,  but  to  begin  with  the  Globes  to  her 
now." 

At  her  early  death  he  mourned  sincerely,  and 
erected  a  memorial  celebrating  the  accomplished 
charms  of  Elizabeth,  his  wife,  — 

"  FORMA,  ABTIBUS,  LINGUIS  CULTISSIMA." 


I 

THE  DIURNAL  OF  MRS  ELIZTH   PEPYS 

2d  May.  —  Sam1  now  in  great  honour  at  the  Navy 
Office,  whereat  my  heart  do  rejoice,  and  the  less  for 
the  havings,  which  do  daily  increase,  than  that  I 
would  willingly  see  him  worshipfully  received,  the 
which  indeede  his  hard  work  do  plentifully  deserve, 
he  sparing  himselfe  in  nothing  for  the  advancing  of 
his  busyness. 

And  I  do  reason  with  myselfe  that  though  he 
have  faults  many  and  great  (which  God  knowes  is 
true)  yet  he  do  come  up  in  the  world  and  our  get- 
tings  are  very  good  and  do  daily  increase.  How 
they  go  I  know  not,  for  that  little  and  grudging  is 
spent  on  my  clothes,  and  though  Sam1  goes  very  noble 
still  it  is  not  possible  but  much  is  saved,  though  he  do 
lament  himself  in  very  high  wordes  of  our  spendthrift 
way  of  life  and  small  saving. 

But  of  this  more  anon. 

Up  and  dressed  a  pease  pudding  with  boyled  rab 
bets  and  bacon  to  dinner  for  want  of  a  cook-mayde, 
Sarah  leaving  us  at  dawn,  and  he  loving  it  mightily. 
The  which  he  should  not  have  this  day  but  that  I  have 
a  month's  mind  to  a  slashte  wastcote  which  hitherto 
he  hath  soured  upon.  This  done,  a  brave  dish  of 
cream  in  the  which  he  takes  great  delight ;  and  so  see 
ing  him  in  Tune  I  to  lament  the  ill  wear  of  my  velvet 
wastcote  as  desiring  a  Better,  whereon  he  soured. 
We  jangling  mightily  on  this  I  did  object  his  new  Jack- 


4  "THE  LADIES!" 

anapes  coat  with  silver  buttons,  but  to  no  purpose. 
He  reading  in  the  Passionate  Pillgrim  which  he  do  of 
all  things  love.  But  angry  to  prayers  and  to  Bed. 

But  it  is  observable  that  this  day  I  discover  Sam1 
in  the  keeping  of  a  Journal  and  very  secret  in  this, 
and  come  at  it  I  will,  he  being  much  abroad  on  his 
occasions  the  while  I  sit  at  home. 

3d.  —  This  day  awakes  Sam1  in  a  musty  humour  as 
much  over-served  with  meat  and  Drink,  and  in  great 
discontent  calling  me,  do  bid  me  rise  and  fetch  his 
Pills  that  olde  Mother  Wigsworth  did  give  him  at 
Brampton.  I  merry  and  named  him  the  Passionate 
Pillgrim  from  his  love  to  these,  whereupon  he  flings 
the  Pills  in  my  face  and  all  scattered,  Deb  grudging  to 
gather  them  it  being  Lord's  Day.  So  I  to  churche, 
leaving  him  singing  and  playing  "  Beauty ,  Retire  "  to 
his  Viall,  a  song  not  worthy  to  be  sung  on  a  holy  Day 
however  he  do  conceit  his  skill  therein.  His  brown 
beauty  Mrs  Lethulier  in  the  pew  against  us  and  I  do 
perceive  her  turn  her  Eye  to  see  if  Sam1  do  come  after. 
She  very  brave  in  hanging  sleeves,  yet  an  ill-lookt  jade 
if  one  do  but  consider,  but  with  the  seeking  Eye  that 
men  look  to,  and  Sam1  in  especial.  Fried  Loyne  of 
mutton  to  dinner,  and  Sam1  his  head  akeing  I  did  sit 
beside  him  discoursing  of  the  new  hangings  for  the 
small  closet,  wherein  great  pleasure  for  it  will  be  most 
neat  and  fine.  And  great  content  have  we  in  such 
discourse  and  in  our  house  and  the  good  we  are  come 
to. 

4th.  —  This  day  do  Sam1  speak  handsomely 
enough  of  his  humour  yesterday,  charging  it  upon  the 


THE  DIURNAL  OF  MRS  ELIZ™  PEPYS        5 

Rabbets,  and  so  I  left  it.  And  strange  it  is  how  when 
he  do  so  repent  my  heart  do  take  part  with  him 
though  I  would  better  renounce  him  awhile  to  learn 
him  manners.  So  he  to  the  Exchange  and  buys  me  a 
piece  of  Paragon  to  a  pettycote,  and  though  it  be  not 
what  I  would  have  of  my  own  choosing  yet  I  do  re 
ceive  it  with  many  goode  words  as  hoping  all  will  yet 
be  as  I  desire.  So  to  sup  on  a  good  dish  of  beef  a  la 
mode,  and  he  weH  content,  it  appearing  he  have  this 
day  bestowed  upon  himself  at  the  Exchange  a  good 
Theorbo,  four  Bookes,  and  a  payre  of  Globes,  talking 
very  high  how  these  be  for  my  instruction  rather  than 
his  own  liking.  The  which  I  receive  smyling,  but  do 
think  —  Lord !  what  fools  men  be  that  will  have  a 
woman  so  lightly  deceived,  fine  wordes  buttering  no 
parsnips.  Sure  they  be  but  Children  when  all  said 
and  done,  and  their  Innocency  in  this  a  pleasant  thing 
to  see. 

Comes  Mr  Collins  with  his  new  Wife,  a  pretty  well- 
shaped  Woman  with  black  hayre  and  Eyes,  and  she, 
much  cried  up  for  her  skill  on  the  Theorbo,  do  after 
play  a  Lesson  upon  it,  but  very  ill,  and  pretty  to  see 
Sam1  that  was  hoping  great  things  (loving  musique) 
in  pain  and  grief  to  hear  her  mean  false  playing  and 
yet  making  fine  wordes  of  it  to  please  her,  and  they 
gone,  do  call  her  slut  and  baggage  and  I  know  not 
what  all.  So  to  prayers  and  bed. 

5th.  —  Sam1  this  day  reading  over  his  vows  not  to 
drink  strong  waters  or  wines  nor  yet  go  to  the  play  for 
two  weekes.  But  I  do  ask  myself  (though  not  Sam1) 
whether  these  vows  be  convenient.  For  I  do  surely 


6  "THE  LADIES!" 

think  he  do  it  only  because  it  is  the  greater  pleasure  to 
drink  and  see  the  play,  it  being  thus  forbid.  And  in 
Sam1  it  is  to  be  noted  and  methinks  in  other  Men  also 
that  they  do  suck  more  pleasure  from  a  thing  for 
bidden  and  hard  to  come  at  than  from  the  same  thing 
when  comely  and  convenient  to  be  done  in  the  sight 
of  all.  This  day,  he  being  with  his  Lordship,  I  to 
gain  a  sight  of  his  Journal,  he  carelessly  leaving  it 
about,  but  took  nothing  by  my  pains,  it  being  writ  in 
secret  writing,  which  do  plainly  show  it  to  be  what  he 
would  be  shamed  if  known.  Whereas  mine  owne  is 
voide  of  all  offence,  and  I  do  lay  it  under  the  smocks 
in  the  great  armoire  only  because  it  is  not  seemly  that 
Sam1  should  know  my  thoughts,  I  having  to  deal  with 
him  as  best  I  may. 

Mem.  To  ask  of  Mrs  Jemimah  Crosby  if  her  fa 
ther,  being  a  scrivener,  knoweth  and  can  instruct  in 
secret  writings. 

Sam1  home  late  this  day,  and  the  supper,  a  calve's 
head,  very  good,  with  a  noble  Barell  of  oysters,  he 
bringing  with  him  Mr  S.  Lucy,  and  so  supt  very 
merry,  and  after  in  the  garden,  Sam1  to  play  on  his 
flageolette,  it  being  full  moon.  So  to  bed,  omitting 
prayers.  A  pleasant  day  and  content  together. 

6th.  —  This  day,  seeing  Mrs  Jemimah  Crosby,  I  to 
ask  her  earnestly  if  her  father  the  scrivener  do  teach 
the  secret  writing,  and  she  replying  that  so  it  was,  I 
after  the  mayde's  cleaning  the  house,  do  forth  and  to 
his  lodging  behind  Paternoster  Row,  he  being  a 
worthy  olde  Gentleman  with  a  long  white  bearde, 
very  reverend.  I  enjoining  him  to  be  secret,  which 


THE  DIURNAL  OF  MRS  ELIZTH  PEPYS        7 

he  the  more  willingly  promised  that  I  have  obliged 
him  and  Mrs  Jem  with  codiniac  and  quince  marma- 
lett  of  my  own  making,  do  tell  him  how  my  father 
(which  is  unknown  to  him)  have  documents  and 
papers  which  he  would  willingly  decipher  but  for  his 
bad  Eyes.  Wherein  God  forgive  me,  for  his  eyes  are 
the  best  Part  of  him.  Olde  Mr  Crosby  thereon 
urgent  that  my  father  entrust  him  with  the  worke, 
but  I  sticking  at  the  expense,  no  more  said.  So  I  to 
show  him  a  line  of  Dots  and  hooks  which  I  did  copy 
from  Sam1  his  Journal,  and  he  reading  it  with  ease, 
what  should  it  prove  to  be  but  this  :  — 

"Took  occasion  to  fall  out  with  my  wife  very  highly 
about  her  ribbands  being  ill  matcht  and  of  two 
colours,  and  to  very  high  words,  so  that  I  did  call  her 
Beaste." 

So  finding  all  as  I  thought  and  it  being  very  need 
ful  that  I  should  know  Sam1  his  thoughts  (and  indeed 
he  is  very  simple  to  write  them  unless  he  think  he  have 
a  fool  to  his  wife)  I  do  covenant  with  the  olde  Gentle 
man  for  Lessons  which  are  dear  enough,  but  to  be 
paid  from  the  housekeeping,  and  indeed  the  better 
that  Sam1  should  live  plaine  awhile  in  consideration 
of  his  ailing.  So  home  in  good  time,  and  do  find  Sam1 
and  our  she-cousin  Scott  very  merry  with  capping  of 
Epitaphs  and  sayings,  wherein  I  also  delighte.  A 
very  merry  witty  woman  and  harmlesse.  Suppt  on  a 
Westfalia  Ham  and  so  with  prayers  content  to  bed. 

7th.  —  This  day  Sam1  returning  from  the  Office 
takes  me  to  a  fine  collacion  at  Handing's  house, 


8  "THE  LADIES!" 

wherein  the  fine  silver  set  forth  upon  the  table  do  give 
us  great  pleasure,  but  I  a  little  shamed  because  the 
ladies  so  brave,  Mrs  Hamling  very  Rich  in  an  em 
broidered  suit,  and  Mrs  Pegg  Penn  in  flowered  sattin, 
which  God  knows  she  do  not  become,  and  heads  set 
out  with  the  new  French  frizzle.  I  very  plain  in  my 
olde  black  silk  new-laced  all  over  with  black  silk  gimp, 
Sam1  declaring  I  am  very  pretty  in  this,  but  I  trust 
him  not  herein,  he  willing  to  save  his  Purse.  One 
passage  of  Sam1  kissing  the  little  black  beauty,  Mrs 
Deakin,  that  he  do  call  his  Morena,  displeased  me, 
she  being  known  for  a  frolicsome  jade.  He  later  sing 
ing,  "Gaze  not  on  Swans,"  and  "Goe  and  be  Hanged 
-that 's  Good-bye,"  all  did  applaud,  and  great  mirth. 
It  was  observable  that  Captain  Wade,  kissing  me  on 
parting,  did  a  little  detain  my  Hand,  and  for  this 
Sam1  did  so  betwit  and  becall  me,  returning  in  the 
Coach,  that  I  pretended  sleep,  which  did  put  him  in  a 
great  discontent  and  so  angry  and  without  Prayers  to 
bed.  Yet  sure  this  shows  his  good  liking  to  me,  and 
I  think  his  heart  sound,  though  he  do  Friske  as  I 
would  he  did  not. 

8th.  —  This  day  hear  that  my  Lady  Sandwich  is 
Delivered  of  a  young  Lady  and  all  well.  Sam1  think 
ing  (on  some  jest  of  my  Lord's)  to  stand  Godfather 
and  give  the  name  —  though  how  to  call  the  Babe  for 
him  I  see  not  —  do  at  once  provide  silver  Spoons  and 
a  Porringer.  Which,  seeing  he  is  not  yet  bidden,  doth 
I  confesse,  appear  exceeding  foolish  and  like  a  man 
that  hath  more  silly  pride  than  sense,  the  rather  that 
I  lack  a  French  mantle  that  he  hath  promist  but  not 


THE  DIURNAL  OF  MRS  ELIZTH  PEPYS         9 

performed.     But  I  say  nothing,  according  to  the  olde 
wise  saw  of  Goody  Gorum,  - 

Nothing  say, 

But  take  your  way. 

He  this  day  in  his  new  Cote  of  the  fashion  and  half 
cloth  stockings  going  to  give  my  Lord  joy,  do  indeed 
seem  very  brave  and  noble,  and  hath  a  neat  legg,  and 
it  pleases  me  to  see  him  go  as  he  should,  for  he  is  a 
personable  man  when  well  set  out.  And  if  he  did  but 
consider  how  it  is  to  his  honour  that  his  Wife  should  go 
as  fine  as  he  I  could  the  more  rejoice  therein,  but  it  is 
not  so,  and  great  dishonour  it  is  to  him  to  consider  how 
this  quarter  he  hath  spent  fifty  pounds  on  his  clothes 
and  but  twelve  on  me,  a  thing  not  fit  to  be  said  of  him. 
But  I  wait  my  time. 

10th.  —  This  day  Sam1  refuses  me  the  French 
mantle  as  beyond  his  Purse,  but  offers  a  payre  of 
gloves  —  I  refusing  this.  Slipt  out  for  Lesson,  olde 
Mr  Crosby  being  a  worthy  and  patient  teacher,  but 
it  is  a  science  very  hard  to  be  come  at,  and  I  weary 
enough  in  the  learning  of  it,  though  indeed  it  be  so 
needful.  Still,  some  progress,  and  he  saying  merrily  I 
would  be  at  some  mischief  in  this,  with  love  Letters  or 
such  Toys,  do  make  me  to  blush,  so  as  I  never  did  but 
when  Sam1  was  courting  me.  Yet  no  guilty  deed,  but 
what  is  very  fitting  for  a  woman.  Was  instant  with 
the  olde  Gentleman  that  he  should  speake  of  my  Les 
sons  to  none,  the  more  so  (I  did  say)  that  my  father 
would  not  have  these  papers  known  to  any,  great  mat 
ters  hanging  on  it.  Which  indeed  is  true  though  not 
as  he  takes  it. 


10  "THE  LADIES!" 

So  I  home  and  with  Sam1  to  the  Play,  where  my 
Lady  Castlemaine,  which  indeed  is  a  great  Beauty, 
nor  can  I  deny  it,  but  sure  it  is  not  hard  to  be  a  beauty 
in  Clothes  and  jewels  that  do  dazzle  the  Eyes  of  all 
that  Gaze  upon  her.  But,  Lord  !  to  see  how  bold  and 
unmannerly  in  staring  upon  strangers  and  the  men  on 
the  stage,  and  in  fine  do  not  please  me  with  her  Free 
doms.  This  Sam1  disputing  very  hotly  after  we  had 
supt  upon  a  Jowl  of  Salmon,  I  to  speake  my  mind, 
asking  if  he  would  have  his  Wife  casting  oranges  to  the 
actors  and  blowing  Kisses  all  about  the  house,  and  he 
not  knowing  what  to  answer,  I  do  say,  "Then  prayse 
it  not  in  others,  for,  if  you  will  have  me  a  bold  Slut, 
no  doubt  but  I  will  do  my  endeavours  to  please  you," 
and  so  whiskte  off,  he  sitting  astonied.  And  strange 
how  men  will  like  in  otheres  what  in  their  own  Wives 
they  love  not  but  fear. 

14th.  —  This  day  I  by  my  Lady's  desire  to  see  the 
young  Lady  which  is  a  fine  Babe  and  like  to  do  well. 
But  no  word  of  Sam1  to  stand  Godfather,  and  Sir  J. 
Minnes  and  Lrd  Brouncker  spoke  of,  which  is  no 
more  than  I  thought,  but  will  make  Sam1  madd  with 
his  spoones.  But  no  loss  herein  if  it  do  make  him 
more  biddable  in  women's  matters.  Her  Laship  ob 
serving  that  my  Lutestring  suit  is  well  worn  and  do 
me  no  credit,  I  did  adventure  to  beseech  her  that  she 
would  break  a  word  with  Sam1  on  his  next  waiting 
upon  her  that  he  would  give  me  a  Gown  of  Moyre 
which  is  now  all  the  fashion,  and  this,  with  many  good 
words  she  prornist  very  lovingly,  desiring  that  I  would 
come  in  a  weeks  time  to  learn  how  she  hath  sped.  So 


THE  DIURNAL  OF  MRS  ELIZTH  PEPYS       11 

I  home  in  good  Tune  as  knowing  he  oweth  his  duty  to 
my  Lord  and  Lady  and  will  be  said  by  her.  In  comes 
fayre  Mrs  Margaret  Wight  to  sup  on  a  dish  of  Eggs 
and  butter  of  Sparagus  that  Sam1  hath  ate  with  my 
Lord  Carlingford  and  do  highly  commend.  And  in 
deed  it  is  rare  meat.  After,  we  dancing  and  very 
merry  with  Mrs  Margaret,  and  she  gone,  I  take  oc 
casion  to  tell  Sam1  of  the  Godfathers  like  to  stand  for 
the  young  Lady.  Whereat  he  in  a  great  Tosse,  but  I 
willing  to  smoothe  all  betwixt  him  and  my  Lady  do 
tell  him  the  honourable  words  she  have  spoke  of  him 
to  myself  and  others,  the  more  especially  of  his  Velvet 
suit  with  scarlet  ribands.  The  which  pleasing  him, 
we  fall  to  discourse  of  what  to  do  with  the  Spoons  and 
Porringer,  resolving  the  spoons  do  go  to  Betty  Michell 
where  certayne  it  is  I  do  stand  Godmother,  and  the 
Porringer  to  Mrs  Lane,  whose  name  I  know  not  but 
will  come  at  shortly,  and  he  do  cry  her  up  for  a  sober 
and  God-fearing  woman.  So  pleasantly  to  bed  and 
good  f rends. 

16th.  —  This  day  comes  my  new  cook-Mayd,  Jane 
Gentleman,  and  heaven  send  she  prove  worthy  of  her 
name,  for  I  am  drove  almost  madd  with  mayds  that 
are  not  mayds  but  Sluts  and  know  not  diligence  nor 
cleanliness,  to  their  own  undoing  and  mine.  And 
strange  it  is  to  consider  how  in  the  olden  days  before 
my  mother  and  Grandmother  (who  suffered  great 
horroures  from  the  like)  the  mayds  were  a  peaceable 
and  diligent  folk,  going  about  their  busyness  to  the 
great  content  of  all  housewives.  But  now  it  is  not  so. 
And  it  is  only  two  days  sennight  that  I  coming  sud- 


12  "THE  LADIES!" 

denly  in  did  find  Sarah  with  my  new  silk  Hood  upon 
her  Frowsy  head  and  Will  discoursing  with  her  and 
thrumming  upon  Sam1  his  viallin.  Whereat  I  did 
catch  her  a  sound  souse  of  the  Ear,  but  she  never  a 
whit  the  better  of  it  and  answering  me  so  sawcily  that 
we  parted  on  it,  Sam1  upholding  me  in  this,  though  it 
be  hard  enough  to  fill  her  place  the  wench  being  a  good 
Cooke-mayde,  though  sluttish. 

20th.  —  Sam1  to  visit  my  Lady,  who  receives  him 
with  great  content  and  satisfaction,  though  she  railed 
bitterly  at  my  Lord  that  is  so  taken  up  with  his  pleas 
ures  and  amusements  that  he  goeth  not  to  Court  as  he 
should,  and  she  fears  will  be  passed  over  and  forgot 
for  others  that  keep  more  stir.  Requiring  Sam1  that 
he  would  deal  plainly  with  my  Lord  on  this,  making 
known  to  him  that  his  Reputacion  do  hereby  decay. 
But  this  methinks  is  a  difficult  matter,  and  I  do 
counsel  Sam1  that  he  put  not  his  finger  between  the 
Bark  and  the  Tree,  lest  it  come  by  a  shrewd  squeeze, 
but  let  rather  my  Lady  deal  with  her  Lord  as  a  Wife 
should  do.  But  he  would  not  harken,  whereby  I  fore 
see  trouble. 

He  then,  pulling  out  of  his  pocket  a  little  Packett, 
do  say  pleasantly,  "  What,  my  Deare,  shall  you  and  I 
never  go  a-f airing  again?  What  think  you  I  have 
here  ?  And  how  many  Kisses  will  you  bid  me  for  a 
sight?" 

Much  merriment  and  pleasure  from  this,  he  hold 
ing  it  high,  and  I  leaping  for  it  like  a  Dogg.  At  the 
last  he  opens  it,  and  lo  a  fine  Lace  of  the  new  fashion 
for  my  bosom,  and  I  do  well  perceive  that  my  Lady 


THE  DIURNAL  OF  MRS  ELIZ^  PEPYS       13 

hath  been  at  him,  and  am  well  content  I  did  break 
the  matter  to  her,  though  an  honest  gown  had  been 
more  to  my  Purpose.  Yet  well  begun  is  half  done. 
Though  but  half,  as  Sam1  shall  find. 

Our  she-cousin  Scott  did  visit  me  this  day  with  sore 
complaints  of  her  husband's  humours  and  constant 
drizzling,  which  is  more  than  a  woman  can  or  ought  to 
bear.  Therefore  I  should  remember  that  with  Sam1 
it  is  not  so,  but  a  spurt  or  flame  of  anger  when  he  will 
be  very  high  with  me,  yet  quickly  snuft  out  and 
friends  again.  And  generally,  it  is  noticeable,  with 
some  little  gift  for  peacemaking,  so  that  I  have  more 
than  once  of  set  purpose  Baited  him  to  this  end.  Yet 
not  often.  Considering  therefore  the  husbands  I  do 
know,  I  think  Sam1  no  worse  a  bargain  than  any  and 
better  than  some,  but  shall  be  better  assured  in  this 
when  I  shall  come  at  his  Journal.  My  seventh  lesson 
today  in  the  secret  writing,  and  progress  made,  but  it 
do  make  my  head  ake  extremely  and  were  it  not  need 
ful  would  not  continue  on  therein. 

Comes  this  day  my  old  Mayd  Gosnell  that  Sam1 
and  I  do  call  our  Marmotte,  she  telling  me  that  Jane 
my  mayde  is  naught  and  she  hath  herself  seen  her 
abroade  in  light  company.  Yet  cooking  as  she  cooks 
Sam1  sticks  on  this  and  bids  me  wink  my  eyes  and 
observe  nothing,  and  such  like  are  men ! 

21st.  —  This  day  Sam1  his  feast  for  the  recovery  of 
his  ailment  which  he  do  always  solemnly  keep  with 
great  store  of  meat  and  Drink  and  company.  And 
this  is  a  great  day  with  him  and  a  troublous  one  with 
me,  and  to  the  Mayds  also  such  as  would  madd  a 


14  "THE  LADIES!" 

Saint.  Yet  all  said  and  done  a  noble  Dinner,  enough 
and  torspare,  being  a  dish  of  Marrowbones,  a  legg  of 
Mutton,  a  loin  of  Veal,  a  dish  of  fowl,  being  three  Pul 
lets  and  24  Larks  all  in  a  great  dish,  a  Tart,  a  neat's 
tongue,  a  dish  of  anchovies,  a  dish  of  Prawns  and 
cheese.  His  company  seven  men  (Captain  Fenner 
and  both  Sir  Williams  among  them)  and  seven  women 
and  all  reasonable  merry.  But  I  beseeching  Sam1 
privately  to  eat  and  Drink  sparingly  for  the  pain  in 
his  Toe,  he  do  so  becall  me  that  it  was  ten  to  an  Ace 
that  I  did  hurle  the  Spit  and  the  birds  withal  into  the 
fire.  Yet  knowing  he  would  pay  dear  next  day,  I 
said  the  less  and  so  continued  on,  bidding  him  take 
his  own  way  and  pay  for  his  liking.  But  indeed  great 
company  and  the  Dinner  well  cooked  and  served  and 
they  did  drink  my  health  on  it.  Also  the  house  very 
handsome  with  Plate  displayed  and  fires  where  the 
Company  did  sit.  And  the  greatness  of  living  we  are 
come  to  did  make  Mrs  Pierce 's  Mouth  to  water 
though  she  in  her  flowered  Lutestring  and  liking  well 
of  it.  So  she  green  and  yellow  with  spite  as  I  did  well 
perceive.  Great  Musique  after,  with  "Great,  good 
and  just,"  and  Sam1  at  the  top  of  his  Tune,  and  so  to 
cards  and  wine.  Weary  to  bed,  Sam1  starting  up  in 
the  night  with  Nightmare  not  knowing  what  he  did, 
and  did  so  shreeke  and  cry  that  the  Mayds  in  affright 
did  run  in,  and  the  Watchmen  passing  called  to  know 
was  any  poor  Soul  murthered  within.  But  this  no 
more  than  my  Expectation,  and  so  quietly  to  sleep. 

22d.  —  This  day  a  noble  gift  of  Plate  being  two 
Candelsticks  and  a  dish  from  Capt  Salmon,  he  look- 


THE  DIURNAL  OF  MRS  ELIZ™  PEPYS       15 

ing  for  favour  from  Sam1  concerning  the  Henrietta 
shippe  that  he  would  have  on  next  going  to  Sea. 
Which  do  plainly  prove  to  what  honour  and  advance 
ment  we  are  come  to  be  so  courted,  and  do  gladde  his 
heart  and  mine.  Sat  long  discoursing  of  this,  and, 
turning  the  case,  what  should  fall  out  but  a  ring  set 
with  an  Orient  perle  for  me,  which  as  not  expecting  I 
received  with  great  good  will.  Sam1  to  the  office  and 
I  to  my  lesson  wherein  very  diligent  and  commended 
of  olde  Mr  Crosby,  and  indeed  I  am  come  already  to 
the  reading  of  many  wordes,  yet  not  glibbly.  So 
home,  but  Sam1  coming  home  and  I  combing  his  hayre 
he  did  say,  "Who  do  I  meet  this  day  in  Broade  Street 
but  olde  Crosby,  Mrs  Jem's  father,  that  I  did  think 
long  dead  and  buried,  not  having  seen  him  this  year 
and  more,  and  so  to  talk  with  him." 

And,  Lord !  to  see  how  I  did  redden,  my  heart  so 
beating  in  my  bosom  as  I  could  have  thought  it  would 
choak  me,  and  do  even  sweat  in  the  writing  of  it.  For 
sure  it  might  well  be  the  olde  Gentleman  would  think 
Sam1  did  know  all  my  father's  business  and  speak 
thereon.  But  I  could  not  speak  and  my  hand  shaked 
so  in  the  Combing  that  I  did  drop  the  comb.  And  he 
continuing,  "So  I  asked  him  how  he  did  and  he  an 
swered,  *  Bravely* ;  and  more  I  would  have  said  for  it 
is  a  worthy  man,  but  little  Mrs  Deakin  passing,  that 
I  do  call  my  Morena,  I  would  not  be  seen  talking  to 
one  so  scurvily  clad,  and  so  incontinently  left  him 
standing  and  hasted  away." 

So  it  passed,  nor  did  I  ask  him  if  he  hasted  after  his 
Morena,  for  heaven  be  thankt  that  she  did  pass  by, 


16  "THE  LADIES!" 

though  I  thought  not  to  live  to  say  it.  But  I  will 
take  order  with  olde  Mr  Crosby,  for  olde  men  be 
tattlers  more  than  any  woman  or  is  convenient.  And 
so  a  great  escape. 

So  Sam1  carries  me  to  the  Paynter  where  he  sits  for 
his  face  and  very  like  it  is,  yet  do  not  please,  he  think 
ing  it  do  make  his  Eyes  too  small  and  ill-favoured, 
but  I  not  so,  and  Lord !  to  see  him  sit  Smirking  upon 
Mr  Savile  since  Mrs  Knipp  hath  commended  his 
Smyle !  But  Mr  Savile  the  Paynter  seeing  me  did 
speak  in  very  handsome  language,  telling  Sam1  he 
hath  a  Beauty  to  his  wife  worthy  that  her  picture 
should  be  with  the  Court  Ladies'  pictures,  and  much 
more  fine  things,  harping  on  the  same  string,  whereto 
Sam1  made  answer  that  he  would  consider  of  it.  But 
to  see  the  Vanity  of  men,  when  all  the  world  knows 
that  the  sight  of  a  pretty  Woman's  face  is  worth  all 
the  men  that  ever  were  or  will  be  !  So  I  sat  devising 
how  to  set  myself  off  if  this  should  be,  and  did  like 
well  of  my  Cardinal  sattin  suit  with  a  chapeau  de  poil 
tied  beneath  my  chin.  Or  it  may  be,  perles  in  my 
hayre,  and  to  borrow  my  Lady's  if  so  she  will.  Fritters 
for  supper,  the  best  I  ever  did  eat,  Sam1  confirming 
me  in  this,  and  he  discoursing  very  high  of  the  cor 
ruption  of  the  times,  and  no  regard  to  clean  living  in 
court  or  city,  and  glad  I  am  that  thus  he  thinks,  and 
do  hope  he  acts  answerably,  as  he  should. 

27th.  —  This  day,  by  long  promise,  Sam1  do  carry 
me  to  White  Hall  to  see  the  Queen  in  her  presence 
Chamber  playing  at  Cards  with  her  ladies,  and  the 
people  looking  and  crowding  upon  them.  He  com- 


THE  DIURNAL  OF  MRS  ELIZ™  PEPYS       17 

mending  Mrs  Stewart  for  a  great  Beauty  and  so  in- 
deede  she  is,  and  one  I  do  not  weary  in  looking  on, 
and  do  far  outshine  my  Lady  Castlemaine  as  I  well 
perceive  His  Majtie  do  also  thinke.  Her  Majtie  ap 
pearing  very  comely  in  a  Gown  of  silver  lace,  but 
Lord !  how  no  one  takes  heed  of  her  when  my  Lady 
Castlemaine  is  by,  which  is  a  great  dishonour  to  a 
sweete  Lady  in  her  owne  Court,  and  I  am  much  mis 
took  if  Her  Majtie  be  not  the  best  Lady  of  them  all, 
and  that  not  saying  much!  But  strange  to  see  how 
beauty  sways  all  and  how  Sam1  do  uphold  my  Lady 
Castlemaine  in  all  things. 

Captain  Holmes  accosted  us  and  very  fine  in  his 
gold  laced  suit,  and  it  is  noticeable  that  Sam1  troubled 

in  mind  because  he  well  knows  that  Captain  H 

hath  called  me  for  a  Toast  and  the  greatest  Beauty  in 
Town.  And  this  Sam1  likes  well  of  for  his  own  Pride, 
yet  not  for  me  to  know.  So  saying  we  must  return 
in  Haste,  he  would  bid  adieu  to  the  Captain,  but  he 
followed  and  escorted  me  very  gallant  to  the  Coche, 
hat  under  his  arm,  and  so  kissed  my  hand  at  parting 
not  once  but  twice.  Now  I  know  well  to  make  Cap 
tain  Holmes  or  any  other  Captain  keepe  his  Distance, 
but  Sam1,  thinking  all  one  as  himself,  in  a  sadd  musty 
humour,  and  yet  would  not  come  forth  with  what  ailed 
him.  So  I  do  Debate  with  myself  if  it  be  not  well  he 
should  see  that  Men  of  court  and  Fashion  do  judge  me 
worth  a  thought.  And  I  think  it  be,  and  so  I  do  learn 
my  Part. 

In  comes  Mrs.  Knipp  to  play  and  sing.  Very  witty 
and  pleasant  doubtlesse,  and  they  very  merry.  I 


18  "THE  LADIES!" 

with  Jane,  contriving  my  olde  pettycote  with  a  broade 
blacke  lace  at  the  foot  to  hide  the  wear.  But  indeede 
I  begin  to  be  full  of  thoughts  considering  if  I  do  well 
in  going  to  Brampton,  when  Sam1  alone  in  Towne  do 
friske  and  please  himself  as  he  will,  Jane  confirming 
me  in  this.  He  home  with  Knipp,  returning  in  a 
great  Tosse  because  I  did  not  bid  her  to  sup  with  us, 
and  do  pull  his  supper  all  about  the  floor,  a  good  hasht 
hen  as  ever  a  man  did  eat,  when  he  should  the  rather 
soberly  thank  heaven  for  meat  and  appettite.  But 
sorry  later,  there  being  nought  else  but  sops  and  wine. 
And  so,  good  friends  and  to  bed,  the  Storms  coming 
and  going,  but  I  think  he  do  love  me  at  heart,  and 
indeede  I  do  love  him  well. 

28th.  — Lord's  Day.  To  church  at  St.  Olave's 
where  a  poor  dull  sermon  from  a  bawling  Scotman, 
and  Sam1  to  sleep,  a  thing  unseemly  in  the  Church, 
but  I  awake  and  did  fix  in  my  mind  the  pattern  of  my 
Lady  Batten's  Hood,  the  which  I  would  not  ask  of 
her  for  that  we  do  of  late  a  little  make  ourselves 
strange  to  her  and  her  family,  but  the  less  matter  be 
cause  I  now  have  it  in  my  Eye.  Mrs  Lethulier 
masqued,  which  methought  a  strange  thing  to  be  seen 
at  Worshipp,  though  the  great  Ladies  do  now  carry 
their  masques  to  the  Play  that  none  may  see  them 
Blush,  or  rather,  as  Sam1  do  say,  that  none  may  see 
they  cannot  blush  if  they  would.  And  indeed  all  the 
Men  do  now  complain  that  the  Beauties  hide  their 
faces. 

Mem.  To  Buy  a  masque  in  Paternoster  Row  when 
I  do  go  to  Mr  Crosby.  This  night  to  bed  in  the  little 


THE  DIURNAL  OF  MRS  EIAZ?R  PEPYS       19 

green  chamber  —  the  Chymney  swepers  in  our  own. 

1st  June.  —  To  my  Lady  this  day  and  do  give  her 
my  thankfull  gratitude  for  that  she  hath  spoke  with 
Sam1  concerning  my  poore  clothes,  telling  her  of  the 
Lace  he  did  give,  she  pishing  and  pshawing  it  for  a 
meane  gift,  remembering  the  money  that  do  pass 
through  his  hands  whereof  my  Lord  hath  informed 
her.  Comes  Sam1  later  to  carry  me  home,  and  my 
Lady  speaking  with  him  of  my  Lady  Jem's  marriage 
with  young  Mr  Carteret  do  say  he  is  so  abasht  and  so 
little  coming  forward  with  his  courtship  that  it  do 
much  discomfort  poor  Lady  Jem  as  not  knowing  what 
he  would  be  at.  So  my  Lady  beseecht  Sam1  that  he 
would  instruct  him  how  to  court  a  lady,  he  otherwise 
doing  very  well,  and  a  worthy  Gentleman,  and  one  my 
Lady  Jem  could  like  of  if  not  so  shamefaced.  Sam1 
simpring  upon  this,  as  who  should  say,  "None  bet 
ter,"  do  make  us  merry,  seeing  him  already  conning 
over  what  manner  of  Speeches  and  approaches  will 
grace  the  Gentleman,  but  I  do  know  him  well  able  in 
such  matters.  And  indeed  in  all. 

2d  July.  —  Lesson,  and  do  now  begin  well  to  read. 
Bought  masque  of  the  Toy  woman,  in  the  Row,  she 
saying,  "Lord !  is  this  the  fayre  Mrs  Pepys,  wife  to 
Mr  Sam1  Pepys,  that  is  known  for  a  great  man  to  be  ? 
Sure  Madam  was  well  pleased  with  the  French  man 
tle  that  he  did  buy  for  her  a  sennight  come  Satur 
day?" 

So  seeing  she  was  a  little  ugly  talking  woman,  I  did 
sound  her  on  this,  for  it  vexed  me  cruelly  since  he  hath 
sent  it  to  another.  And  for  all,  I  do  and  will  believe 


20  "THE  LADIES!" 

it  is  but  sporting  and  jesting,  which  if  I  did  not,  God 
help  us  all !  So  sadly  and  soberly  home,  but  yet  said 
nothing.  Pray  God  all  be  well. 

24th  July.  —  For  many  days  have  I  not  writ,  for  at 
the  last  I  did  come  to  read  what  I  would,  and  though 
not  all,  for  some  is  in  Greeke  or  I  know  not  what,  yet 
what  I  did  read  hath  broke  my  heart.  His  Mrs  Lane 
that  he  did  prayse  for  a  God-fearing  woman,  his  Deb 
—  but  what  do  I  say  ?  —  sure  he  hath  not  a  heart  but 
a  stone.  So  I  telling  him  certayne  things  of  my 
knowledge  (and  yet  not  how  I  did  know  them),  he  in 
great  fear  and  terrour  and  as  I  thought  unlike  a  man 
of  Courage.  Which  did  shame  me  for  him  that  I 
could  scarce  bring  myself  to  look  in  his  face  and  see 
him  thus,  remembering  his  high  carriage  that  I  did 
use  to  see  in  him.  And  times  there  were  when  I 
would  the  rather  he  did  Brazen  it  out,  it  seeming  so 
poor  a  thing  to  see  him  so  low,  and  times  again  when 
in  Madness  I  would  have  taken  a  knife  to  him,  but  he 
did  pull  it  away  with  weeping  Teares  and  promise  of 
amendment.  But  how  to  trust  him  or  any  I  cannot 
tell.  And  I  have  bid  Will  Hewer  (Sam1  humbly 
agreeing  thereto)  that  he  continue  with  his  master 
and  oversee  him  in  all  his  walks  abroad,  doing  me  to 
wit  where  he  goeth.  Yet,  how  to  trust  Will  —  for 
sure  all  men  are  alike  and  will  give  the  other  counte 
nance  in  Deceit.  So  what  way  to  surety,  for  if  a  man 
regard  not  his  wife  where  shall  she  look  for  good  ?  And 
truly  I  do  believe  that  in  such  Trafficking  men  do  chip 
and  whittle  away  their  heart  till  none  be  left  and  they 
cannot  love  if  they  would,  and  no  anchorage  in  so 


THE  DIURNAL  OF  MRS  ELIZ™  PEPYS       21 

rotten  a  Holding  ground.  And  thus  have  I  learned 
that  a  woman  may  be  young  and  yet  aweary  of  her 
life,  which  I  did  not  think  to  be  true. 

Sometimes  I  would  I  had  not  read,  and  again  I 
would  know  more  and  run  the  knife  yet  deeper  in  my 
heart,  and  in  that  curst  book  never  will  I  read  again, 
and  even  in  the  writing  of  this  well  do  I  know  I  cannot 
forbear  to  read,  and  so  Teares  my  drink  and  all  my 
content  gone.  But  let  me  remember  there  was  here 
and  there  a  word  where  he  hath  writ  tenderly  of  his 
poor  Wife,  and  when  I  did  see  him  weep  my  heart  did 
pity  him.  But  what  hope  or  help,  for  a  Jar  mended 
may  hold  water,  but  yet  the  Cracks  remain,  and  the 
worth  gone  for  ever  and  a  Day. 

Well,  God  mend  all,  and  yet  I  think  He  cannot. 
But  in  this  Booke  of  mine  will  I  never  write  more,  for 
the  mirth  and  the  little  Frets  that  I  did  think  so  great 
alike  do  pierce  my  heart  to  read.  So  farewell,  my 
Booke,  that  was  a  good  friend  in  sunshine  but  an  ill 
friend  in  storm,  for  I  am  done  with  thee  and  with 
many  things  more  this  day. 

And  so  to  the  work  that  must  be  done  and  the  day 
that  must  be  lived  though  Brows  ake  and  heart  break. 

(Elizabeth  Pepys  died  at  the  age  of  twenty -nine.) 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  STELLA 


ESTHER  JOHNSON 
"STELLA" 

1681-1728 

JONATHAN  SWIFT'S  cousin  and  biographer  sums 
up  his  views  of  the  mystery  of  Stella  in  definite 
fashion:  "For  that  she  was  married  to  Dr  Swift 
about  the  year  1716,  I  am  thoroughly  persuaded, 
although  it  is  certain  they  continued  to  live  in  sep 
arate  Houses  in  the  same  manner  they  had  usually 
done  before."  Other  contemporaries  of  Swift  are 
equally  persuaded  that  no  marriage  took  place  at 
all.  Under  the  circumstances,  it  is  no  great  mar 
vel  if,  as  one  gossip  suggests,  "  her  spirits  might 
have  become  dejected,  by  her  frequent  revolving 
in  her  mind  the  Odness  of  her  Situation." 

When  Esther  Johnson's  mother  was  companion 
to  Lady  Giffard,  sister  of  Sir  William  Temple,  the 
"Platonick"  friendship  between  the  young  girl 
and  Temple's  secretary  began.  There  are  re 
ports  of  Stella's  charm,  not  only  in  the  Journal, 
but  in  a  general  tradition  that  she  was  "sur 
rounded  by  every  Grace  and  blessed  with  every 
Virtue  that  could  allure  the  Affections  and  capti 
vate  the  Soul  of  the  most  stubborn  Philosopher." 
Says  John  Hawkesworth :  "  There  was  a  natural 
musick  in  her  Voice,  and  a  pleasing  complacency 
in  her  aspect  when  she  spoke.  As  to  her  wit,  it 
was  confessed  by  all  her  acquaintance  and  particu 
larly  by  the  Dean,  that  she  never  failed  to  say  the 
best  thing  that  was  said  whenever  she  was  in  com 
pany." 

She  died  at  forty-seven,  and  was  buried  in  St. 
Patrick's  Cathedral,  where  Swift,  seventeen  years 
later,  by  his  own  instructions,  was  buried  at  her 
side. 


n 

THE  MYSTERY  OF  STELLA 

This  paper  have  I  wrote  for  certain  grave  considera 
tions  which  make  me  suppose  it  well  it  were  one  day 
placed  in  the  hands  of  the  Dean.  'Tis,  however,  pos 
sible  I  may  destroy  it,  but  this  time  shall  determine  ere 
my  death.  Writ  an :  1727  by  me,  ESTHER  JOHNSON. 

WHEN  the  Dean  paid  his  last  visit  to  London,  an : 
1726,  he  writ  thus  in  a  letter  directed  to  Mrs  Dingley, 
but  for  her  and  me  :  — 

"Farewell,  my  dearest  lives  and  delights  I  love 
you  better  than  ever,  as  hope  saved,  and  ever  will.  I 
can  count  on  nothing  but  MD's  love  and  kindness, 
and  so,  farewell,  dearest  MD.  PRESTO." 

So  he  signs  himself,  and  so  it  seems  the  old  screen 
will  still  be  kept  up  and  the  letters  to  me  wrote  to  her 
also,  and  in  the  child's  talk  that  pleaseth  him,  lest 
any  in  the  world  suspect  the  famous  divine  hath  a 
man's  heart.  But  hath  he  ?  This  I  have  not  known, 
nor  shall.  Let  me  tell  my  own  heart  yet  again 
how  deep  my  debt  to  him,  remembering  the  sickly 
child  of  Moor  Park,  to  whom  he  brought  not  alone 
learning  but  companionship,  and  all  the  joy  known  to 
her  childhood.  For  it  pleased  Dr  Swift,  then  a  young 
man,  to  condescend  to  a  child's  humours,  to  solace 
her  solitary  hours,  forsook  as  she  was  of  her  mother's 
company,  and  not  alone  to  teach  her  to  write,  but  all 
her  store  of  knowledge.  And  Dr  Swift  hath  since 


26  "THE  LADIES!" 

been  pleased  to  acknowledge  that,  having  instilled  in 
this  poor  child  the  principles  of  honour  and  virtue, 
she  hath  not  swerved  from  them  in  any  passage  of  her 
life. 

Yet  have  I  not?  Again  I  question  my  heart. 
'T  is  the  most  I  can  hope  that  the  woman  hath  repaid 
the  child's  debt.  On  this  I  will  be  judged. 

A  keen  remembrance  begins  not  much  before  the 
age  of  eight,  nor  can  I  recall  a  time  when  I  did  not  love 
him.  My  mother's  time  was  took  up  in  making  her 
court  to  my  Lady  Giffard,  sister  to  our  benefactor, 
Sir  William  Temple ;  and  Rebecca  Dingley's  (a  kins 
woman  of  the  Temples)  in  making  her  court  to  all ; 
and  the  child  Esther  might  run  as  she  pleased,  chid 
only  when  she  was  remembered. 

And  this  young  man  took  pity  on  her.  I  remem 
ber  very  well  Dr  Swift's  face  in  youth.  'Twas  ex 
traordinary  handsome  and  commanding,  the  eyes 
blue  and  piercing,  the  features  strong,  and  a  some 
thing  that  very  early  distinguisht  him  from  others, 
so  that  great  persons  coming  of  errands  to  Sir  Wil 
liam  Temple  were  not  seldom  drawn  into  intercourse 
with  his  secretary. 

Mr  Swift  was  not  then  so  prudent  as  he  became 
later.  What  need  with  a  child  ?  He  permitted  his 
fancy  to  range  in  all  he  said ;  and  seated  by  the  lake 
at  Moor  Park,  with  this  child  at  his  knee  looking  up 
into  his  face,  he  would  discourse  of  things  in  heaven 
and  earth,  forgetting  his  hearer.  For  he  who  could 
charm  all  charmed  himself  no  less,  and  often  hath 
said  to  me  laughing  :  — 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  STELLA  27 

"There  's  no  company  so  good  as  Jonathan  Swift's 
—  and  he  himself  would  choose  it  before  all  others  !" 
Of  this  I  am  not  certain,  for  the  Dean  hath  been 
and  is  very  partial  to  the  company  of  the  great  and 
famous  of  either  sex. 

'T  was  thus,  sitting  by  the  lake  and  gazing  down 
the  great  perspective  cut  in  the  trees,  he  saw  the 
peasants  going  homeward  up  the  hill,  no  greater  than 
ants,  and  looking  into  my  eyes  (from  which  and  my 
name  he  called  me  Star,  and  later,  Stella),  he  said  :  — 

"What  say  you,  Mrs  Star,  if  these  folk  were  really 
no  bigger  than  now  they  seem  ?  What  if  this  coun 
try  were  peopled  by  a  race  of  little  creeping  Hop-o'- 
my-Thumbs?" 

"O  rare,  rare !"  I  cried,  and  clapt  my  hands.  "Tell 
me  the  history  of  them,  Mr  Swift,  and  their  little 
homely  ways  and  houses  like  bees'  cells  for  size." 

And  as  I  looked  up  and  the  words  came  from  him, 
truly  all  was  visible  before  me.  'Tis  a  gift  Mr 
Swift  hath  had  from  the  beginning,  that  men  should 
see  what  he  would.  And  women,  —  O  Father  Al 
mighty,  —  women ! 

So  that  was  the  beginning  of  Gulliver  his  travels, 
that  being  told  for  a  child's  pleasure  hath  since  be 
come  a  world's  wonder.  It  had  not  then  the  mean 
ings  he  gave  it  later,  nor  were  there  any  Yahoos. 

If  I  ask  myself  when  this  harmless  love  did  change 
to  a  woman's,  I  cannot  tell,  because  with  my  growth 
it  grew.  But  the  first  pain  it  brought  (and  sure  pain 
is  love's  shadow)  was  an :  1697,  when  I  was  sixteen 
years  of  age.  For  I  sat  by  the  housekeeper's  window, 


28  "THE  LADIES!" 

and  Sir  William  and  Mr  Swift  were  pacing  the  path, 
their  voices  coming  and  going.  Mr  Swift  was  now 
dressed  as  the  young  Levite  he  sometimes  called  him 
self  since  he  returned  from  Ireland  a  clergyman ;  and 
he  walked  with  his  eyes  fixed  moodily  on  the  ground, 
listening  to  Sir  William. 

"Why,  as  to  that,  Jonathan,"  said  he  familiarly, 
"I  ever  thought  it  behoves  a  parson  to  marry  when 
he  hath  got  preferment.  There  is  room  for  Mrs  Par 
son's  help  with  the  women  and  children  of  the  parish 
and  't  is  meet  she  should  set  an  example  with  her  neat 
parsonage,  and  be  a  notable  woman  with  her  possets 
and  cordials  for  the  sick.  Now  what  like  is  this  pretty 
Varina  that  Dr  Holmes  hath  brought  news  of  from 
Belfast?" 

"Miss  Wearing,"  says  Mr  Swift,  very  grave,  "is  a 
commendable  young  lady,  but  I  design  not  for  mar 
riage  as  yet,  Sir,  nor  for  a  long  time  to  come." 

They  past  out  of  hearing  and,  returning,  I  heard 
but  the  last  part  of  Sir  William's  words  :  — 

"  'T  is  a  cruel  thing  for  a  man  to  raise  hopes  he 
means  not  to  be  answerable  for,  and  I  am  told  the 
young  lady  grows  very  melancholy  upon  it.  True  it 
is,  a  man  must  sow  his  wild  oats  even  though  he 
honour  his  cloth ;  but  't  is  not  well  to  sow  them  in  a 
harmless  girl's  acre,  Jonathan.  Sow  them  by  the 
wayside,  and  then  they  come  not  up  to  her  con 
fusion  and  your  own." 

"A  sound  precept,  Sir ;  but  better  still  to  sow  none. 
This  shall  be  my  care.  As  to  the  connection  you 
speak  of,  't  is  long  broke  off,  and  was  at  all  times  im- 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  STELLA  29 

possible,  the  lady  having  no  portion,  and  myself  - 
as  you  know ! " 

His  brow  was  like  a  thunder-cloud  ere  it  bursts; 
but,  looking  up,  he  catcht  sight  of  me,  and  continued 
with  no  pause :  — 

"As  for  that  matter  of  the  publishers,  Sir  —  they 
have  writ  to  say  that  they  wait  your  commands  anent 
the  Letters  of  Phalaris.  Asking  your  pardon,  time 
goes,  and  we  should  be  speaking  of  this  and  not  of 
child's  toys." 

I  knew  by  the  black  blink  of  his  eyes  that  I  had 
heard  what  he  would  not;  and  as  they  turned,  my 
heart  beat  so  that  I  laid  my  hand  on  it,  as  if  that  poor 
fence  might  hide  its  throbbing.  And  for  the  first 
time  in  my  life  I  knew  I  had  in  this  world  an  enemy, 
and  that  was  this  Varina ;  and  from  that  hour  mine 
eyes  waited  on  him. 

More  often  mine  eyes  than  my  company,  for,  espe 
cially  since  this  conversation  with  Sir  William,  Mr 
Swift  was  now  grown  very  cautious.  In  public  he 
addressed  me  as  "Mrs  Johnson,"  or,  when  Sir  Wil 
liam  rallied  him,  as  "Mrs  Esther,"  affecting  an  awful 
distance,  which  was  not  in  his  heart,  for  therein  was 
still  the  tenderness  for  his  child  and  pupil,  as  he  had 
used  to  call  me.  And  he  was  good  enough  to  signify  to 
Mrs  Dingley,  who  carried  it  to  me,  that  he  found  me 
grown  to  his  liking;  "beautiful,  graceful,  and  agree 
able,"  says  he,  and  condescended  to  praise  even  my 
black  hair  and  pale  face,  after  which  I  would  not  have 
exchanged  it  against  the  golden  hair  of  Helen.  But 
still  held  aloof  except  when  I  was  in  company  with 


30  "THE  LADIES!" 

others.  And  I  took  note  that,  of  all  the  ladies  that 
came  and  went  at  Moor  Park,  there  was  not  one  but 
hung  upon  his  talk,  and  held  up  her  head  when  he 
came  near,  spreading  out  all  her  graces.  Mr  Swift 
had  always  that  power  with  our  sex  and,  if  he  used  it, 
't  is  but  what  all  men  do.  Providence  made  us  fair 
game,  to  our  undoing  and  theirs.  'T  is  not  all  men 
who  have  this  gift,  and  never  have  I  seen  one  who, 
having  it,  spared  to  use  it,  whether  from  liking  or 
policy. 

Yet  he  used  it  strangely.  I  remember,  when  the 
fair  Lady  Mary  Fane  came  to  Moor  Park,  —  a  wid 
owed  beauty  and  toast,  —  the  look  of  scorn  she  cast 
from  her  fine  eyes  on  the  young  secretary. 

"I  marvel,  Sir  William,"  says  she,  "that  you  will 
have  your  servant  ever  at  your  elbow,  so  that  a  body 
hath  never  a  word  with  you  alone.  I  would  not  pre 
sume  to  censure,  but  certainly  my  father's  chaplain 
does  not  so  intrude  himself  into  company ;  and  't  is 
difficult  for  persons  of  quality  to  speak  their  mind  in 
such  underbred  society." 

"Why,  your  Ladyship,"  says  he,  laughing,  "be 
gracious  to  my  young  Levite.  He  is  not  of  the  com 
mon  sort  of  creeping  parson,  but  I  dare  venture  will 
yet  be  heard  of.  Simple  as  your  Ladyship  thinks  him, 
he  is  at  home  in  all  company,  be  it  great  or  little ;  and 
I  had  not  known  him  three  year  when  I  sent  him  to 
London  on  a  secret  errand  —  and  I  was  not  mistook." 

"Such  persons,"  says  the  lady,  very  haughty,  "are 
paid  to  exert  themselves  in  our  service.  We  may  ex 
pect  no  less." 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  STELLA  31 

So  it  passed;  but  a  busybody  carried  this,  with 
other  tattle,  to  Mr  Swift,  who  questioned  me  also. 
I  looked  to  see  him  mighty  angry ;  and  first  his  brows 
frowned,  and  then  he  laughed,  as  if  a  thought  pleased 
him. 

"Said  she  so,  the  painted  jade!  What,  Madam 
Stella,  shall  not  a  stinking  pride  be  taught  its  place 
by  the  Church  ?  I  '11  give  the  hussy  her  lesson." 

That  very  day,  my  Lady  Mary  sitting  to  embroid 
ery  on  the  great  terrace  in  the  shade,  and  I  holding 
her  threads,  she  threw  Mr  Swift  a  word  as  he  past,  to 
ask  the  name  of  the  nymph  that  was  turned  to  a  bush 
to  escape  the  pursuit  of  Apollo ;  for  that  was  the  sub 
ject  of  her  needle. 

"Daphne,  Madam,"  says  he.  "Have  I  your  per 
mission  to  look  upon  your  work  ?  Oh,  fie  !  —  this 
bush  —  't  is  a  rosebush,  and  Daphne  became  a  laurel. 
Sure,  a  lady  with  your  Ladyship's  reputation  for  wit 
will  not  be  in  error." 

She  stopped  with  the  needle  in  her  hand  and  lookt 
at  him  angrily. 

"Sir,  if  you  know  better  than  Mrs  Weyland  who 
drew  my  pattern,  instruct  me.  I  am  not  too  proud 
to  learn  from  my  —  betters." 

She  made  the  word  an  insult,  and  went  on  :  — 

"Have  I  done  amiss  to  give  Apollo  wings  to  his 
feet?" 

"Why,  indeed,  Madam,  'tis  Mercury  carries  the 
wings.  In  another  lady's  presence  I  had  said  'tis 
Cupid,  but  from  some  ladies  love  cannot  fly." 

So  it  began.     In  a  moment  more  she  had  bid  him 


32  "THE  LADIES!" 

be  seated,  and  tell  her  stories  that  a  lady  might  paint 
with  her  needle.  And  presently  her  hands  dropt  in 
her  lap,  and  her  eyes  fixed  on  his  face,  and  't  was  not 
long  ere  I  was  dismist. 

That  evening  he  came  into  Dingley's  room,  where 
I  sat  with  her  to  repair  the  household  linen,  and  rat 
tled  on,  full  of  wit  and  good  humour ;  and  when  Ding- 
ley  went  out  to  fetch  a  cordial  for  him,  he  says :  — 

"Well,  Mistress  Stella,  did  we  give  the  lying  slut 
her  lesson  today  —  did  we  ?  Sure,  't  was  a  pure 
bite!" 

And  says  I :  - 

"I  have  seldom  heard  your  Reverence  more  enter 
taining." 

And  he,  laughing  hugely  :  — 

"A  cat  may  be  choked  with  cream  as  well  as  fish 
bones,  Mrs  Stella.  Keep  your  pretty  little  eyes  open, 
child,  and  thou  shalt  see." 

In  a  week  she  was  his  humble  servant.  'T  is  scarce 
credible,  but  I  saw  her  once  lay  her  hand,  sparkling 
with  jewels,  upon  his,  and  he  shake  it  off  as  if  't  were 
dirt.  I  saw  the  water  brim  her  eyes  as  she  lookt  at 
him  and  he  laught  and  turned  away.  Indeed,  her 
Ladyship  had  her  lesson  ere  she  left  Moor  Park,  and 
I  knew  not  then  enough  to  pity  her.  Pity  -  -  't  is  a 
flower  that  grows  in  the  furrows  of  a  heart  ploughed 
over  by  sorrow,  and  my  day  was  not  yet  come.  He 
laught  with  me  over  the  disconsolate  beauty,  when 
she  importuned  him  to  be  her  son's  tutor,  and  he  re 
plied  he  had  far  other  views. 

Yet  for  all  his  caution  we  met  sometimes,  when  I 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  STELLA  33 

would  be  gathering  flowers  and  lavender,  or  fruit  for 
Mrs  Groson  the  cook.  And  I  knew  he  loved  to  talk 
with  me.  He  loves  it  still.  Many  was  the  jest  we 
had  —  jests  with  their  root  in  childhood  and  folly  to 
all  but  him  and  me. 

So  came  the  day  that  changed  all. 

'Twas  a  fair  sunset,  with  one  star  shining,  and  I 
stood  in  the  copse  far  from  the  house,  to  hear  the 
nightingale ;  and,  though  I  thought  of  him,  did  not  see 
that  he  leaned  against  the  King's  Beech,  until  he 
stirred  and  made  my  heart  to  flutter. 

"I  watch  your  namesake,  Stella,"  says  he,  "and 
wonder  if  in  that  sweet  star  are  plots  and  envyings  - 
a  Marlborough  intriguing  against  his  King,  a  Burnet 
plotting  for  an  archbishopric,  an  ugly  Dutch  monster- 
kin  on  the  throne  —  and  a  naughty  rogue  called 
Stella,  that  hath  forgot  her  old  tutor  and  loves  him 
no  more.  Yet  if  that  love  should  miscarry,  I  know 
not—" 

"If  it  miscarry,"  says  I,  trembling,  "there  will  be 
many  to  succeed  it.  But  I  think,  Mr  Swift,  it  can 
not." 

"Many?"  he  answered,  and  up  went  his  brows. 
"Such  as  my  Lady  Mary  and  such-like?  But  that 
is  no  love,  Stellakin.  'T  is  only  thy  innocence  could 
mistake  it.  The  true  name  is  none  so  pretty,  and  not 
for  thy  lips.  Get  thee  to  a  nunnery,  child  —  the 
world  is  not  for  such  as  thee." 

So  I  faltered  out :  "  What  is  love  ?  " 

"A  thing  that  hath  no  existence  between  man  and 
woman  in  this  world,  so  mixed  is  it  with  lust  and 


34  "THE  LADIES!" 

hatred  and  jealousy.  True,  there  is  love,  but  it  is 
not  that  one.  'T  is  the  loves  filial  and  paternal,  and 
friendship,  better  than  all  the  loves  the  rhymesters 
hang  with  their  namby-pamby.  The  love  between 
the  sexes  —  't  is  a  game  wherein  the  weaker  loses,  and 
then  —  VOB  victis!  Hast  forgot  thy  Latin,  child  ?" 

And  then  I  broke  out  into  a  great  sobbing,  as  it  my 
bursting  heart  would  break ;  for,  I  know  not  why,  but 
this  cut  me  like  a  knife.  And  he  took  my  hand  with 
anxious  kindness  to  soothe  me;  and  at  the  bird's 
rustle  in  the  tree,  dropt  it  and  stood  apart.  He  lived 
in  the  eye  of  the  world  even  in  such  affections  as  he 
owned.  But  I  sobbed  on. 

"Pray,  pray,  don't  sob,  Stella,"  he  says.  "This  is 
mighty,  mighty  ill  and  like  a  child.  Dry  those  pretty 
eyes,  —  prettier,  gadso !  than  any  Lady  Mary's  of 
them  all !  —  and  tell  me  wherein  I  have  offended. 
'T  was  not  willingly." 

So,  drowned  in  tears,  I  lookt  up,  and  having  lookt, 
turned  away  weeping,  and  could  say  no  more.  For 
what  skill  had  I  to  argufy  with  a  man  of  such  infinite 
parts?  And  yet  well  I  knew  that  in  this  matter  of 
love  I  was  the  wiser,  though  but  a  simpleton.  But  he 
caught  my  hands. 

"Have  I  hurt  thee,  Stella ?  I  were  a  devil  if  I  did. 
What  ails  my  girl  at  love  ?  What  is  it  to  thee  ?  Keep 
away  from  that  raging  fire.  Souse  it  with  every 
stream  of  reason  and  honour.  Heap  the  ice  of  the 
Pole  on  it,  for  it  is  not  only  hell  itself  but  feeds  the 
flame  of  hell  eternal." 

He  so  wrung  my  hand  that  it  pained ;  and  I  saw  his 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  STELLA  35 

face  work  like  a  man  most  desperately  sick  and  ill.  It 
dried  the  tears  in  my  eyes,  and  I  stood  trembling  and 
staring  upon  him,  and  the  twilight  was  sweet  about 
us  with  a  smell  of  grass  and  growing  things  and 
flowers ;  a  night  for  lovers  —  and  I  most  miserable. 

"I  doubt  — "  he  began  and  stopt ;  and  then,  with  a 
cry  that  choked  in  his  throat,  he  put  his  arms  about 
me  and  I  laid  my  head  on  his  breast. 

Should  I  blame  myself  for  that  half -hour  ?  Should 
I  blame  my  Dear,  the  Desire  of  mine  eyes  ?  'T  was 
but  a  step  to  take  across  the  line  that  parts  innocence 
from  —  No,  no,  never  will  I  say  guilt !  'T  was  not 
guilt,  if  all  the  tongues  of  men  and  angels  should  so 
preach.  'T  is  in  the  later  denial  of  love  that  guilt  lay 
hid.  But  these  things  I  did  not  then  know,  and  I 
thought  in  my  simplicity  the  world  changed  and  the 
foolish  girl  become  a  woman  and  beloved,  and  our 
lives  together  in  a  fair  prospect  before  us. 

And  suddenly  —  "Go  —  go!"  he  cried,  rejecting 
me  and  thrusting  me  from  him.  "Go,  and  never 
again  let  me  see  your  face.  I  sicken  —  I  sicken  at 
what  is  done.  No  —  no  !  Speak  not,  utter  not,  lest 
I  strike  you  and  myself  dead.  Leave  me,  for  God's 
pity's  sake !  Go  !" 

So  did  the  Angel  with  the  flaming  sword  drive  our 
first  parents  out  of  Paradise.  I  drew  apart  shudder 
ing,  and  he  cried  after  me  in  a  loud  whisper :  — 

"Let  none  see  your  face.  Go  in  by  the  covered 
door,  and  so  to  your  room,  and  plead  headache  if 
Dingley  see  you.  Go." 

I  left  him  in  the  dark.     I  drew  my  palatine  about 


36  "THE  LADIES!" 

my  face  and  none  saw ;  and  so  to  my  room,  and  outed 
the  light,  and  sat  by  the  window  till  the  dawn  came. 

Now,  if  I  am  condemned  herein,  I  take  the  blame, 
but  cannot  change  my  thought.  What  woman  in 
giving  all  met  ever  so  sorry  a  return  —  and  why  ? 
I  broke  my  brain  with  thinking,  and  at  that  time 
found  no  answer.  Later,  I  knew.  But  to  escape 
the  hue  and  cry  of  question,  I  washed  the  tears  from 
my  eyes  in  the  morning,  and  so  to  the  housekeeper's 
room.  And  he  was  there,  reading  in  a  great  book, 
and  my  heart  leapt  like  the  last  leap  of  a  hare  with 
the  dogs  on  it. 

"Why,  Stellakin  —  saucy-nose!"  says  he,  laugh 
ing,  but  his  face  was  pale.  He  could  cheat  with  his 
words,  but  I  saw  his  face  bleacht  like  a  linen  clout 
behind  his  laugh,  and  I  swear  at  that  time  he  loved 
me,  though  he  loved  advancement  better.  :<  You  are 
bright  and  early,  young  woman !  Are  you  for  the 
garden,  to  get  you  a  stomach  for  breakfast  ?  Well, 
so-so  !  and  pray  for  poor  Presto  as  you  go ;  for  in  hon 
our  and  conscience,  his  Ppt  is  the  child  of  his  heart." 

How  could  I  endure  this  ?  I  closed  the  door,  and 
left  him  laughing  with  white  lips. 

So  went  the  day,  and  now  I  saw  his  drift.  He 
would  hold  the  little  language  of  childhood  for  a  shield 
betwixt  us.  I  should  be  nothing  more  for  ever  than 
Ppt,  —  poor  pretty  thing,  —  Stellakin,  the  pretty 
rogue.  He  would  not  fail  in  this,  but  only  in  all  my 
hopes.  He  would  give  me  all  but  that  I  longed  for. 
He  would  glut  me  with  sugar-comfits  but  never  a 
taste  of  the  living  bread. 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  STELLA  37 

And  next  day  a  new  thing.  Dingley  and  I  sitting 
together,  he  came  upon  us,  and  in  all  he  said  included 
her.  She  was  his  second  MD.  He  was  her  poor 
Presto,  also.  I  saw  his  will  and  knew  he  built  a  fence 
about  himself. 

Sometimes  I  thought  I  had  but  a  mean  spirit  so  to 
live,  and  thought  to  ask  his  meaning ;  but  dared  not, 
for  he  struck  an  awe  into  my  very  soul.  So  gradually 
the  days  covered  that  sunset,  and  't  was  impossible  I 
should  speak;  and  life  went  by,  and  still  I  studied 
with  him,  but  Dingley  always  present. 

Hath  he  a  heart  ?  I  know  not.  That  sunset  was  a 
grave  between  us;  and  had  the  corpse  risen  and 
stared  him  in  the  face,  I  think  he  had  run  mad.  In 
my  solitary  hours,  I  would  imagine  I  spoke.  Some 
times  I  would  kneel  before  him  entreating,  and  he 
would  raise  me  up,  as  a  certain  king  did  another 
Esther.  Sometimes  he  would  fall  at  my  knees,  and  I 
would  bow  my  head  upon  him,  weeping  for  joy. 

But  yet  always  I  knew  that,  if  we  glanced  near  that 
secret,  he  would  rise  and  stare  upon  me  with  a  ghast 
ly  face,  and  I  would  see  him  no  more.  Yet  at  that 
time  he  loved  me.  To  himself  he  will  not  lie  in  read 
ing  this. 

'Twas  in  1699  Sir  William  Temple  died,  and  the 
household  at  Moor  Park  was  broke  up.  Mr  Swift 
took  the  kindest  part  in  my  settlement  and  the  laying 
out  of  my  little  fortune.  "And  be  easy  about  money, 
you  nauti-nauti,  dear  girls,"  says  he  to  old  Dingley 
and  me ;  "for  what  is  mine  is  yours ;  and  were  it  my 
blood,  't  is  all  one." 


38  "THE  LADIES!" 

And  so  laid  his  plans  that  we  should  come  to  Ire 
land,  where  he  had  preferment  at  Laracor  near  Dub 
lin,  and  the  prebend  of  Dunlavin  in  St.  Patrick's 
Cathedral.  And,  God  forgive  me,  I  asked  myself  if 
the  thought  to  keep  me  under  his  guidance  mingled 
not  itself  with  all  his  kindness. 

So  I,  being  twenty  years  old,  and  Dingley  a  kind 
bustling  woman,  we  went ;  and  Ireland  was  a  kindly 
home,  for  't  was  near  him,  and  I  might  see  him.  Not 
as  I  would  —  oh,  never  that !  but  as  a  friend,  provided 
'twas  with  caution.  For  as  he  now  mounted  in  the 
Church,  and  his  ambition  strengthened  on  him  (and 
sure  Wolsey  himself  did  not  more  suffer  from  that 
failing  of  noble  minds),  caution  grew  to  be  his  main 
thought;  for  he  said  the  adventure  of  our  coming 
looked  so  like  a  frolic  that  censure  might  hold  as  if 
there  were  a  secret  history  in  such  a  removal ;  but 
this  would  soon  blow  over  by  circumspect  conduct, 
and  this  too  was  used  to  put  a  distance  between  us. 
But  't  was  the  condition  of  our  intercourse,  and  thus 
I  accepted  it.  For  aught  I  could  discern,  all  else  was 
clean  forgot,  and  we  lodged  near  him  and  met  as 
friends  —  no  more. 

Nor  could  I  think  otherwise  when  Mr  Tisdall,  his 
friend,  made  suit  to  me.  I  was  cold,  —  what  else, 
—  for  I  thought  myself  a  wife,  if  a  forsaken  one,  and 
Mr  Tisdall  imagined  that  Dr  Swift  opposed  his  suit, 
objecting  that  his  means  did  not  come  up  to  the  ex 
pectation  he  formed  for  me,  who  was,  he  said,  in  a 
manner,  his  ward. 

Poor  Mr  Tisdall  writ  in  haste  on  this,  and  brought 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  STELLA  39 

me  Dr  Swift's  reply  (who  had  not  broke  the  matter  to 
me)  and  thus  it  ran :  — 

My  conjecture  is  that  you  think  I  obstruct  your  inclina 
tions  to  please  my  own.  In  answer  to  all  which  I  will, 
upon  my  conscience  and  honour,  tell  you  the  naked  truth. 
[  The  naked  truth  !  O  God,  if  it  were  told  !  ]  If  my  fortunes 
and  humour  served  me  to  think  of  that  state,  I  should  cer 
tainly  make  your  choice,  because  I  never  saw  that  person 
whose  conversation  I  entirely  valued  but  hers.  This  was 
the  utmost  I  ever  gave  way  to.  [But  once  —  but  once !] 
And  this  regard  of  mine  never  once  entered  my  head  as  an 
impediment  to  you,  since  it  is  held  so  necessary  and  con 
venient  a  thing  for  ladies  to  marry,  and  that  time  takes  off 
the  lustre  of  virgins  in  all  other  eyes  but  mine. 

This  Mr  Tisdall  offered  on  his  knees,  declaring  it 
must  remove  my  last  objections,  since  the  worthy 
friend  of  my  childhood  supported  his  suit.  I  re 
ceived  it  sedately,  and  dismist  him  with  the  compunc 
tion  so  worthy  a  gentleman  merited.  Was  this  letter 
honest  to  his  friend?  I  say  not. 

Henceforth  he  disliked  Mr  Tisdall.  Could  I  im 
pute  this  to  jealousy?  Why  not?  A  man  will  be 
jealous  if  his  dog  but  lick  the  hand  of  another ;  and, 
though  he  reserve  himself  perfect  freedom,  no  man 
must  so  much  as  sigh  for  the  woman  he  hath  once 
honoured  with  his  regard.  Truly  there  is  a  some 
thing  Oriental  in  the  passions  of  men ;  and  if  a  woman 
break  through  this,  't  is  at  her  peril. 

So  stood  matters  when  the  Doctor  went  to  London, 
an :  1710,  on  his  errand  of  obtaining  the  First  Fruits 
for  the  Irish  Church  from  the  Crown  —  and  he  chosen 
from  all  others  to  this,  for  his  commanding  talent  and 


40  "THE  LADIES  r 

presence,  though  then  but  forty-two  years  of  age,  and 
many  dignitaries  older,  yet  not  wiser.  It  created 
much  envy. 

I  missed  him,  and  yet  took  a  sad  ease  in  his  going. 
'Twas  the  easier  to  talk  with  Dingley,  to  play  at 
ombre  with  the  Dean  and  Mrs  Walls ;  for  when  he 
was  in  presence,  my  heart  waited  upon  his  speech,  and 
he  wounded  with  many  a  word  and  look  he  thought 
not  on.  And  he  writ  often  in  the  form  of  a  Journal 
to  Dingley  and  me,  saying :  — 

"I  will  write  something  every  day  to  MD,  and 
when  it  is  full,  will  send  it ;  and  that  will  be  pretty, 
and  I  will  always  be  in  conversation  with  MD,  and 
MD  with  Presto." 

'T  was  near  a  year  since  his  going  when  Mrs  Cole- 
burn  came  to  Dublin,  full  of  London  talk,  and  her 
friendship  with  the  great  Dr  Swift,  the  hope  of  the 
Tories.  Indeed,  it  made  her  a  great  woman  with  the 
clergy  in  Dublin,  that  she  knew  so  much  of  his  sayings 
and  doings,  and  in  what  high  company  he  was  got, 
and  the  clutter  he  made  in  London.  Much  was  true, 
as  I  knew  under  his  own  hand.  Much  was  idle 
twattle  and  the  giddiness  of  a  woman  that  will  be 
talking.  Now,  one  day,  she  visited  me,  dressed  out 
in  the  last  London  mode,  and  talked  as  I  knotted,  and 
presently  says  she  :  — 

"And,  Mrs  Johnson,  what  will  be  said,  the  Doctor 
being  made  a  Bishop  as  he  now  looks  for,  if  he  bring 
home  a  fine  young  bride  from  London  ?  Sure  he  lives 
at  Mrs  Vanhomrigh's,  so  often  is  he  there ;  and  Miss 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  STELLA  41 

Hessy  is  as  pretty  a  girl  as  eye  can  see,  in  her  young 
twenties  and  a  bit  of  a  fortune  to  boot.  I  have  ever 
said  the  Doctor  was  not  on  the  market  for  nothing. 
He  is  not  the  man  for  a  portionless  beauty.  Hath  he 
wrote  of  this  ?  for  all  the  tongues  are  wagging,  and  the 
lady  in  such  a  blaze  with  the  tender  passion  that  she 
can't  by  any  means  smother  it." 

"Doctor  Swift  hath  often  writ  of  Mrs  Vanhom- 
righ  and  her  hospitalities,"  says  I,  smiling.  "Also 
of  the  charming  Miss  V.  Her  name  is  no  stranger 
here." 

So  I  baffled  the  woman,  and  could  see  her  petty 
malice  dumbed.  I  held  the  smile  on  my  face  like  a 
mask. 

"Well,  'tis  a  charming  creature,  and  the  Doctor 
commends  her  wit  in  all  quarters ;  and  't  is  certain 
he  should  be  a  judge,  for  he  tutors  her  in  Latin. 
There 's  many  a  man  would  gladly  tutor  the  seductive 
Miss  Hessy." 

When  she  took  leave,  I  writ  to  the  kind  Patty  Rolt 
in  London.  When  her  reply  returned,  't  was  but  to 
confirm  Mrs  Coleburn.  Then  I  turned  over  all  his 
letters  —  yet  did  not  need  —  for  mention  of  this 
woman,  and  found  but  three,  though  of  the  mother 
and  her  house  he  writ  in  almost  every  letter,  but  mak 
ing  somewhat  too  light  of  it.  'Twas  a  raging  pain 
that  he  should  be  her  tutor  —  I  had  thought  that  was 
mine  only  and  not  to  recur  —  a  memory  stored  where 
neither  rust  nor  moth  might  touch  it.  Well  —  what 
could  I  but  hate  the  girl?  And  to  hate  is  a  bitter 
thing :  it  saps  the  life  and  breaks  the  strength,  and  so 


42  "THE  LADIES!" 

no  escape  night  or  day.  I  must  then  fancy  his  letters 
cooling,  and  later  says  Dingley  unprompted :  - 

"The  Doctor  is  took  up  with  his  fine  friends  and  his 
business.  La  !  —  for  sure  he  writes  not  as  he  did,  but 
is  plaguey  busy.  Two  simple  women  can't  expect  so 
much  of  his  time  that  duchesses  go  begging  for." 

He  stayed  long  away,  and  Patty  Rolt  writ  often, 
discreet  and  willing  to  serve  me ;  and  one  day  comes  a 
packet  from  her,  and  when  I  cut  the  seals,  out  falls  a 
letter  —  his.  I  read  it  first. 

Miss  Hessy,  I  am  so  weary  of  this  place  [*t  was  Windsor] 
that  I  am  resolved  to  leave  it  in  two  days.  I  will  come  as 
early  on  Monday  as  I  can  find  opportunity,  and  will  take 
a  little  Grub  Street  lodgings  pretty  near  where  I  did  before, 
and  will  dine  with  you  three  times  a  week  and  tell  you  a 
thousand  secrets,  provided  you  will  have  no  quarrels  with 
me.  I  long  to  drink  a  dish  of  coffee  in  the  sluttery,  and 
hear  you  dun  me  for  secrets,  and  "Drink  your  coffee  — 
why  don't  you  drink  your  coffee  ?  " 

So  he  writ,  and  more  —  much  more  could  I  read 
unsaid.  For  him,  this  was  much  —  I  knew  it.  Then, 
another  letter  —  a  woman's  hand. 

It  is  inexpressible  the  concern  I  am  in  ever  since  I 
heard  from  Mrs  Lewis  that  your  head  is  so  much  out  of 
order.  Who  is  your  physician  ?  Satisfy  me  so  much  as  to 
tell  me  what  medicines  you  have  took  and  do  take.  O 
what  would  I  give  to  know  how  you  do  this  instant.  My 
fortune  is  too  hard.  Your  absence  was  enough  without 
this  cruel  addition.  I  have  done  all  that  was  possible  to 
hinder  myself  from  writing  for  fear  of  breaking  my  prom 
ise  ;  but  it  is  all  in  vain ;  for  had  I  vowed  neither  to  touch 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  STELLA  43 

pen,  ink,  or  paper,  I  certainly  should  have  had  some  other 
invention,  and  I  am  impatient  to  the  last  degree  to  hear 
how  you  are.  I  hope  I  shall  soon  have  you  here. 

The  two  were  wrapt  in  a  sheet  from  Patty  who  had 
writ  thereon:  —  "Dropt  by  the  Doctor  when  in  a 
giddy  attack,  visiting  me." 

I  think  she  was  shamed.  So  was  not  I.  As  well 
ask  the  hound  if  he  is  shamed  when  tracking  the  deer. 
Had  it  been  to  save  my  life,  instead  of  lose  it,  I  had 
less  eagerly  read.  'Twas  clear  they  understood  one 
another.  With  me,  in  his  caution,  Dingley  must  be 
joined  when  he  writ.  With  her,  not  so.  Her  happi 
ness  was  a  knife  turned  in  a  bleeding  wound. 

So  I  writ  him,  in  a  letter  of  many  matters,  some 
what  scornfully  of  the  family  as  marvelling  a  little 
that  he  whom  all  solicited  could  be  satisfied  with  such 
inconsiderable  people.  In  time  he  replied  thus  :  — 

Sir  A.  Fountaine  and  I  dined  by  invitation  with  Mrs  V. 
You  say  they  are  of  no  consequence  —  why,  they  keep  as 
good  female  company  as  I  do  male.  I  see  all  the  drabs  of 
quality  at  this  end  of  the  town  with  them.  I  saw  two 
Lady  Bettys  there  this  afternoon.  Rare  walking  in  the 
Park  now.  Why  don't  you  walk  in  the  Green  of  St.  Ste 
phen's  ?  What  beasts  the  Irish  women  are,  never  to  walk. 

Men  hide  not  matters  so  well  as  women.  They  say 
too  much  or  not  enough. 

Much  later  he  writ:  "I  found  Mrs  V.  all  in  com 
bustion  with  her  landlord.  Her  eldest  daughter  is  of 
age,  and  going  to  Ireland  to  look  after  her  fortune  and 
get  it  in  her  own  hands." 


44  "THE  LADIES!" 

So  I  was  to  think  it  concerned  them  not  to  be  apart. 
Immediately  I  set  my  wits  to  discover  where  was  her 
estate,  and  't  was  not  long  ere  I  knew  't  was  Marlay 
Abbey,  near  Celbridge ;  but  the  lady  would  reside  in 
Dublin  while  making  her  dispositions,  being  Mrs 
Emerson's  guest,  and  was  like  to  be  at  a  rout  at  her 
house.  'Twas  long  since  I  attended  a  rout,  but  I 
intrigued  to  be  bidden  as  courtiers  intrigue  for  an  inch 
of  blue  ribbon ;  and  in  such'  a  fever  and  anguish  as  I 
think  I  had  died  of  it  if  not  successful. 

So,  when  the  day  was  come,  I  went  with  Mrs 
Stoyte ;  and  the  first  person  I  saw  was  a  young  lady 
on  the  stair-head  as  we  went  up,  and  Mrs  Emerson 
presenting  her  to  many.  A  fine  young  London 
madam,  who  curtseyed  to  me,  taking  no  more  heed 
than  of  any  other. 

Shall  I  admit  her  beauty?  I  did  not  think  her 
charming,  despite  fine  sparkling  eyes  and  a  luxuriance 
of  brown  hair.  Her  lips  were  full  and  her  chin  round, 
but  she  looked  full  her  age,  and  between  the  brows 
was  a  line  that  I  would  call  the  Doctor's  sign-manual. 
I  have  it  myself  —  I  have  seen  it  in  others  —  't  is  the 
claw-foot  of  care,  care  never-ending  and  cruel  unrest, 
and  hope  that  sickens  the  spirit  and  fades  the  bloom  ; 
and  in  her,  though  but  just  of  age,  the  first  bloom  was 
gone  that  is  like  morning  dew  in  a  young  girl's  eyes. 
He  loves  to  tyrannise  over  women  and  show  his  fam 
iliarity  by  a  certain  brutality  of  address,  and  the  line 
comes  not  slowly. 

I  caught  sight  of  her  person  with  mine  in  a  long 
glass  —  she  in  her  sea-green  sacque  flowered  with 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  STELLA  45 

pink,  and  myself  in  gray,  —  "  an  angel's  face  a  little 
cracked,"  —  that  was  the  best  he  could  say  for  Stella  ! 
She  gave  not  a  thought  to  the  faded  Dublin  lady  that 
would  have  given  all  but  her  eternal  hope  to  read  in 
that  girl's  soul.  Oh,  the  mask  of  the  human  face 
behind  which  none  may  look ! 

So  she  went,  and  after  a  year  he  returned,  now 
Dean  of  St.  Patrick.  He  was  kind,  but 't  was  a  kind 
ness  that  stood  apart  and  viewed  itself  carefully,  lest 
it  diminish  my  due.  'Twas  easy  seen  he  was  en 
gaged  in  thought.  Well  —  shall  a  woman  expect 
more  from  a  man  in  the  world's  eye?  Let  her  be 
humbly  grateful  for  the  crumbs  he  lets  fall. 

Also  for  the  crumbs  from  her  rival's  table ;  for  Miss 
Hessy  following,  and  now  an  orphan,  was  established 
soon  after  at  Marlay ;  and  whether  I  would  or  not,  I 
knew  when  the  Dean's  rides  took  him  that  way,  my 
Mrs  Prue  being  courted  by  his  man  Samuel,  and  all 
he  did  trickling  through  that  channel.  'T  was  at  this 
time  also  that  copies  were  handed  about  of  his  poem, 
"Cadenus  and  Vanessa,"  and  't  was  the  very  top  of 
talk  and  admiration.  Many  might  guess  who  was  the 
lady,  and  'the  Dean  was  mighty  angry,  and  said 
*t  was  but  a  jest,  and  no  friend  to  him  who  took  it 
otherwise. 

He  asked  me  with  a  feigned  carelessness  if  I  had 
read  it ;  and  I  replying  carelessly  that  I  thought  it 
extreme  fine  and  could  wish  he  would  write  oftener 
in  that  vein,  he  smiled  and  looked  pleased,  and  so 
it  passed.  But  again  and  yet  again  I  conned  the 
lines :  — 


46  "THE  LADIES!" 

*T  is  to  the  world  a  secret  yet 

Whether  the  nymph,  to  please  her  swain, 
Talks  in  a  high  romantic  strain, 

Or  whether  he  at  last  descends 

To  act  with  less  seraphic  ends. 

Or,  to  compound  the  business,  whether 
They  temper  love  and  books  together, 

Must  never  to  mankind  be  told, 

Nor  shall  the  conscious  Muse  unfold. 

I  knew  the  meaning  of  that  passage  where  others 
guesst.  I  read  it  by  the  light  of  a  sunset  many  years 
gone,  and  lived  in  hell. 

'T  was  when  Mr  Dean  was  next  in  London,  came  a 
letter  to  me 

Madam,  I  have  great  and  urgent  reason  to  wish  the 
honour  of  meeting  you  and  a  half  hour's  conversation. 
Any  place  you  may  condescend  to  appoint  will  be  per 
fectly  agreeable  and  the  favour  prized  by 

Your  obedient  humble  servant, 

ESTHER  VANHOMRIGH 

(who  would  not  ask  it  unless  it  concerned  Mrs  Johnson  as 
nearly  as  herself). 

I  broke  my  brains  thinking,  should  I  or  should  I 
not  ?  Nor  can  I  now  unravel  all  the  motives  at  work. 
But  in  two  days'  time  I  writ :  — 

Madam,  I  have  a  difficulty  to  come  at  the  reason  for 
your  request,  but  am  compelled  by  courtesy  to  appoint 
three  o*  the  clock  at  the  rooms  of  Mrs  Dew,  my  old  ser 
vant,  at  Kidder  Street,  No.  12.  Your  obt  humble  servant, 

ESTHER  JOHNSON. 

Strange  our  names  should  be  alike  ! 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  STELLA  47 

She  was  the  first  at  the  meeting.  I  ensured  this, 
delaying  my  chair  at  the  corner  of  Kidder  Street  till 
I  saw  her  enter. 

The  room  was  small  and  poorly  decent,  and  her 
hoop  and  mine  filled  it.  She  curtseyed  low,  as  did  I, 
and  though  she  aimed  at  composure,  I  could  see  her 
lips  work.  The  line  between  her  brows  was  eight 
years  deeper,  her  face  pale,  the  bloom  faded,  and  her 
mouth  droopt.  Had  she  been  any  other,  I  had  pitied 
her.  His  friendship  is  fatal  to  my  sex,  though  I  have 
wore  it  like  an  honour.  For  me,  I  was  composed. 
It 's  not  for  nothing  I  have  spent  my  life  in  that  school 

—  she  was  a  newer  pupil. 

Being  seated,  I  asked  her  to  favour  me  with  her 
commands,  and  she  came  straight  at  the  business  with 
a  kind  of  directness  pitiable  enough. 

"Madam,  all  the  world  talks  of  the  goodness  of 
Mrs  Johnson.  I  am  not  long  a  resident  of  these 
parts,  but  am  no  stranger  to  your  merits.  'T  is  my 
confidence  in  them  causes  this  explanation.  May  I 
ask  pardon  for  plain  speaking?" 

"Madam,  if  the  subject  is  one  I  can  admit  of, 
speech  cannot  be  too  plain." 

"So  I  have  been  told.  Accept  me  therefore  as  a 
pla'in-dealer,  Madam,  and  have  the  goodness  to  read 
what  I  cannot  speak.  But  first,"  —  she  put  her 
hand  to  her  throat  as  if  she  might  swoon,  and  so 
closing  her  eyes  for  a  moment,  opened  them  clearly 
on  me,  —  "  Madam,  between  a  certain  gentleman  and 
myself  have  been  love-passages  tending,  as  I  believed 

—  hoped  —  to  marriage.     A  passion  that,  with  due 


48  "THE  LADIES!" 

regard  to  honour,  hath  been  the  ruler  of  my  life  hath 
brought  me  to  Celbridge,  as  I  did  think  for  the  happi 
ness  of  both.  Being  arrived,  I  have  the  happiness  to 
see  this  gentleman  often,  and  he  hath  had  the  good 
ness  to  say  that  no  person  hath  ever  been  so  loved, 
honoured,  esteemed,  ADORED  by  him  as  your  humble 
servant.  Yet  I  am  told  that  a  former  attachment 
doth  so  constrain  his  honour  that  little  can  be  hoped." 
—  (Her  voice  broke.)  "Madam,  will  you  read  this 
paper,  and  say  Yes  or  No?" 
I  opened  it,  and  thus  read :  — 

Madam,  of  your  angelic  goodness  be  pleased  to  answer, 
are  you  indeed  the  wife  of  one  I  name  not  ?  If  it  be  true, 
I  will  utterly  withdraw  my  intrusive  presence.  In  pity, 
answer  me. 

It  seemed  many  minutes  I  sat  with  this  in  my  hand, 
and  she  dropt  on  her  knee  at  my  feet,  looking  up  in 
agony.  Time  passed  and  I  heard  my  voice  as  if  it 
were  another's,  and  strange  to  me. 

"Madam,  am  I  expected  to  disclose  my  secrets  to 
one  of  whom  I  know  not  if  she  tells  truth  ?  What  are 
you  to  the  Dean,  and  what  proof  do  you  give  of  what 
you  are,  that  I  should  answer?" 

She  said  very  low  :  — 

"I  had  not  thought  of  that.  But  'tis  very  true." 
And,  trembling  and  looking  fearfully  about  her,  she 
put  her  hand  inside  the  whalebone  of  her  bodice  and 
drew  out  letters. 

"I  thought  not  these  would  be  seen  by  any,  but 
buried  with  me  when  I  die ;  but  't  is  impossible  you 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  STELLA  49 

should  know  me  for  honest,  and  because  honour  speaks 
in  your  face  —  read  these." 

I  took  them,  trembling  inwardly.  She,  poor 
wretch,  was  newer  to  her  trade,  and  was  like  to  faint. 
I  knew  the  writing. 

I  will  see  you  tomorrow,  if  possible.  You  know  it  is  not 
above  five  days  since  I  saw  you,  and  that  I  would  ten  times 
more,  if  it  were  at  all  convenient.  —  Cad  bids  me  tell  you 
that,  if  you  complain  of  difficult  writing,  he  will  give  you 
enough  to  complain  of. 

"Cad"?  Then  I  remembered  —  " Cadenus  and 
Vanessa."  So  —  she  might  call  him  by  a  little  famil 
iar  name,  but  I,  never.  I  stopt  there. 

"  Madam,  have  you  thus  writ  to  him  ?  " 

"Always  of  late,  Madam.  With  a  dash  before  it, 
as  here  you  will  see  the  cause." 

She  pushed  a  letter  into  my  hand,  eager,  as  I 
thought,  to  convince  not  only  me  but  herself  of  his 
regard.  And  thus  it  read :  — 

I  wish  your  letters  were  as  difficult  (cautious)  as  mine, 
for  then  they  would  be  of  no  consequence  if  dropped  by 
careless  messengers.  A  stroke  thus  —  signifies  all  that 
may  be  said  to  Cad  at  beginning  or  conclusion. 

"So,"  says  I,  "a  stroke  means  endearments. 
Otherwise  't  is  difficult  to  conclude  these  sentimental 
letters." 

"Madam,"  she  broke  out,  "it  means  more  than 
tongue  can  tell.  And  since  you  still  doubt,  have  the 
condescension  to  read  this  letter  of  my  own  which  he 


50  " THE  LADIES!" 

returned  to  me  in  rebuke.     'Twill  show   you   our 
terms." 

—  Cad,  you  are  good  beyond  expression.  I  thought 
that  last  letter  I  writ  was  obscure  and  restrained  enough. 
I  took  pains  to  write  it  after  your  manner.  I  am  sorry  my 
jealousy  should  hinder  you  from  writing  more  love  letters. 
Pray  tell  me,  did  you  not  wish  to  come  where  that  road  to 
the  left  would  have  led  you  ?  I  am  now  as  happy  as  I  can 
be  without  seeing  —  Cad.  I  beg  you  will  continue  happi 
ness  to  your  own  Heskinage. 

I  read,  and  was  silent  —  reading  this  letter  by  the 
light  of  a  dead  sunset.  I  never  dared  so  write.  There 
was  that  between  them  that  he  had  never  shared  with 
me,  and  yet  all  his  old  caution,  as  with  me.  I  thought 
not,  however,  so  much  of  his  feelings  as  of  hers,  for  I 
think  his  care  for  women  is  but  skin-deep  at  best.  He 
was  ever  willing  to  take  the  tribute  of  their  hearts  — 
nay,  of  their  lives ;  but  should  they  incommode  him, 
or  trespass  across  the  line  he  hath  marked  —  this 
careless  liking  is  changed  to  hatred,  and  he  will 
avenge  himself  brutally  on  the  weak  creatures  that 
love  him. 

Who  should  know  this  but  I  —  I  who  have  lived 
beside  him  and  retained  his  friendship  only  because  I 
have  in  all  things  submitted  to  his  will  —  silent  to 
death?  Had  I  anything  to  lose  to  this  unfortunate 
woman?  No,  I  had  lost  all  many  a  long  year  ago. 
She  still  had  hopes ;  I,  none.  Why  torture  a  wretch 
so  miserable? 

She  kneeled  before  me,  pale  as  a  corpse.  'T  was 
the  strangest  meeting.  I  could  scarce  hear  her  voice. 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  STELLA  51 

"Madam,"  says  she,  "I  have  put  my  life  in  your 
hand ;  for  if  Mr  Dean  knew  that  I  had  come  here  — 
that  I  had  dared  —  O  Madam,  he  can  be  cruel  to 
women !" 

I  strove  to  collect  my  thoughts ;  then  heard  my  own 
voice  as  a  stranger's  :  — 

"Madam,  to  your  question,  the  answer  is  No. 
There  is  no  marriage  between  Mr  Dean  and  me.  I 
have  no  claim  on  him  that  obstructs  your  own." 

She  looked  up  like  one  in  a  stupor  of  amazement  — 
so  dazed  and  white  that  I  repeated  my  words.  Then, 
suddenly,  she  gathered  herself  into  composure  like  my 
own,  but  her  poor  lips  trembled.  I  saw  in  her  my 
girlhood  long  dead. 

"If  I  say  I  thank  you,  Madam,  with  all  my  heart 
and  soul  for  thus  opening  your  mind  to  a  most  miser 
able  woman,  I  say  little.  What  is  left  of  my  life  shall 
be  a  study  to  deserve  your  compassion.  What  would 
you  have  me  do?" 

I  replied :  "I  think  you  will  not  fail  in  what  honour 
and  conscience  dictate.  'Tis  not  for  me  to  say. 
'Tis  between  you  and  Mr  Dean.  And  now,  Ma 
dam,  will  you  give  me  leave  to  withdraw,  for  this  hath 
been  a  painful  meeting  for  us  both." 

"Not  before  I  bless  you  with  all  my  broken  heart," 
she  cried,  and  took  my  hand.  "For  I  will  now  tell 
you  that,  for  all  these  letters,  I  know  he  loves  not  me, 
nor  any.  I  may  please  him  better  than  another  in 
moments,  but  there  's  no  security.  He  hath  a  con 
tempt  for  women  that  scorches,  and  to  hurt  them  — 
but 't  is  not  this  I  would  say.  I  feared  to  find  an  ex- 


52  "THE  LADIES!" 

ulting  rival  when  I  came  to  you,  Madam,  and  instead 
I  find  an  angel  of  compassion.  Sure  I  read  it  in  your 
eyes.  In  this  life  we  shall  meet  no  more ;  but  in  my 
prayers  you  will  be  present,  and  I  beseech  you,  as  the 
last  favour,  to  give  me  an  interest  in  yours,  that  I  may 
know  myself  not  utterly  forsook.  My  one  sister  is 
not  long  dead  —  I  am  utterly  alone  in  the  world." 

She  could  not  continue,  but  kissed  my  hand,  and 
her  tears  fell  on  it.  I  told  her  that  this  meeting 
should  remain  secret,  but  she  needed  not  assurance. 
We  embraced,  and  so,  curtseying,  separated,  she  de 
parting  first.  A  good  woman,  if  I  have  known  one. 
'T  is  of  good  women  men  make  their  victims.  The 
ill  women  cannot  and  do  not  suffer ;  they  but  repay 
our  score.  When  I  reached  home  I  found  her  paper 
still  in  my  hand. 

I  must  now  be  brief.  Mr  Dean  returned,  and  all 
was  as  before ;  but  I  wearied  yet  more  of  the  child's 
play  and  prattle  he  still  continued  for  my  amusement. 
He  was  much  engaged  with  writing.  I  thought  him 
ill  at  ease. 

I  was  seated  by  the  window  on  a  day  he  will  recall, 
when  he  entered  pale  and  furious. 

"What  hath  gone  amiss?"  I  cried,  starting  up. 

"This,"  says  he,  in  a  voice  I  scarce  knew,  so  awful 
was  it ;  and  laid  before  me  the  poor  Vanessa's  paper 
that  I  believed  I  had  destroyed  weeks  agone.  O, 
what  had  I  done  ?  'T  was  another  paper  I  had  burn 
ed,  and  this  had  lain  in  my  pocket.  'T  was  most 
certainly  Mrs  Prue  —  But  what  matter?  He  had 
what  for  her  sake  and  mine  I  had  died  to  hide. 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  STELLA  53 

"Hath  that  vixen  dared  to  come  anigh  you?"  he 
cried.  "Hath  she  ventured  to  disquiet  my  friends, 
the  wanton  jade,  the  scheming  — "  and  so  on,  pouring 
horrid  words  upon  her  that  chilled  my  blood.  'T  was 
terrible  in  him,  that  he  could  so  swiftly  change  to 
these  furies  with  one  he  had  favoured,  and  to  a  rage 
frightful  to  see. 

I  tried  to  moderate  him,  to  speak  for  her;  but 
nothing  availed.  Finally  I  rose  to  withdraw,  for 
he  would  hear  nothing. 

"But  I  '11  break  her  spirit,"  he  said,  with  clenched 
hands.  "I  '11  ride  to  Celbridge  and  face  her  with  her 
crime — " 

I  held  him  back.  "For  God's  sake,  no.  Have 
patience.  She  hath  done  no  harm,  and  no  eye  but 
mine  saw  the  paper.  I  pitied  her  —  we  parted 
friends." 

"Then  you  saw  her?     She  came?" 

But  I  can  write  no  more.  He  tore  his  coat  from  me, 
and  so  down  the  stair  like  a  madman ;  and  I  heard  his 
horse  clatter  down  the  street,  while  I  prayed  for  a 
soul  in  agony,  and  that  she  might  not  think  I  be 
trayed  her. 

Hours  went  by.  He  returned,  still  riding  furiously, 
and  told  me  how  he  had  dashed  the  paper  on  the  table 
before  her,  and  how  she  had  sunk  down  speechless 
when  he  so  spoke  as  satisfied  even  his  vengeance. 
And  so  continued :  — 

"But  I  am  resolved.  Such  sluts,  such  tongue- 
snakes  shall  not  cross  my  path.  You  have  been 
obedient,  Stella,  through  good  and  ill  report,  and 


54  "THE  LADIES!" 

merit  reward.  I  will  speak  with  the  Bishop  of 
Clogher  and  he  shall  marry  us  forthwith,  though 
privately.  And  we  will  live  apart,  for  I  cannot  bend 
my  will  and  habits  to  live  with  any  woman ;  but 
Stella  shall  know  she  is  my  wife,  and  the  knowledge 
pierce  that 's  heart." 

So,  at  last,  the  words  I  had  once  died  to  hear  came 
and  found  me  cold.  Indeed,  I  despised  them,  though 
still  I  honour  my  friend.  I  mused,  while  he  leaned 
against  the  window,  breathing  heavily  and  waiting 
my  reply. 

"It  comes  too  late/5  I  said.  "There  was  a  time 
when  it  had  been  welcome,  but  not  now.  Also,  my 
sympathies  are  engaged  in  a  quarter  where  I  think  a 
little  mercy  had  become  you.  With  your  permission, 
Mr  Dean,  this  is  a  subject  that  shall  detain  us  no 


more." 


I  pickt  up  my  knotting  as  Dingley  entered.  He 
stared  upon  me  and  went  out,  nor  was  it  ever  again 
mentioned. 

After,  she  writ  me  a  word :  "Madam  and  my  friend, 
I  know  't  was  not  your  doing.  That  needs  no  words. 
I  am  very  ill,  and  were  it  possible  we  should  meet, 
't  would  be  my  solace,  but  't  is  impossible.  May  the 
happiness  the  good  should  enjoy  attend  you,  as  do 
my  prayers.  Your  grateful  humble  servant,  E.  V." 

I  answered  thus :  "Madam  and  my  friend,  God  be 
with  you  in  life  and  death.  The  question  you  put  to 
me  I  shall  for  ever  answer  as  then.  Comfort  your 
self,  for  sure  there  is  a  world  that  sets  this  right,  else 
were  we  of  all  men  most  miserable." 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  STELLA  55 

She  was  dead  in  three  weeks,  of  a  broken  heart. 
For  me,  my  own  hour  draws  on.  I  have  writ  this 
paper,  yet  think  to  destroy  it,  and  know  not  what  is 
best.  No  happiness  lies  before  him  in  old  age,  for 
't  is  a  plant  he  pulled  up  by  the  roots  for  himself  and 
others  —  alas  !  how  many.  Should  I  then  cause  him 
to  suffer  more  ?  He  hath  had  the  mercy  of  my  silence 
for  a  lifetime.  'Tis  not  so  hard  to  be  silent  in  the 
grave. 

(Stella  died  in  the  year  1727.  The  letters  in  this  story 
to  or  from  Dean  Swift  are  authentic.) 


MY  LADY  MARY 


LADY  MARY  WORTLEY  MONTAGU 
1689-1762 

"I  THANK  God  witches  are  out  of  fashion,"  ob 
serves  Lady  Mary,  in  a  letter  to  her  daughter, 
when  spicy  gossip  about  her  doings  abroad  had 
been  circulated  in  London,  "or  I  should  expect  to 
have  it  deponed,  by  several  credible  witnesses, 
that  I  had  been  seen  flying  through  the  air  on  a 
broomstick." 

Conspicuous  always,  she  was  nominated  a 
"toast"  in  the  Kit-Kat  Club  when  she  was  eight, 
occupied  herself  with  Latin  at  ten,  was  married 
when  she  was  twenty-three,  began  her  campaign 
for  smallpox  inoculation  when  she  was  twenty- 
nine,  held  salons  in  London,  Constantinople,  Bres 
cia,  Rome,  and  Venice,  and  died  when  she  was 
seventy-three,  bequeathing  a  fortune  and  twenty 
large  manuscript  volumes  of  prose  and  verse  to 
her  daughter,  one  guinea  to  her  son,  and  two  vol 
umes  of  correspondence  to  a  gentleman  in  Holland, 
with  the  request  that  the  letters  be  published  at 
once. 

"Her  family,"  writes  Horace  Walpole,  "are  in 
terror  lest  they  should  be,  and  have  tried  to  get 
them.  Though  I  do  not  doubt  but  they  are  an 
olio  of  lies  and  scandal,  I  should  like  to  see  them. 
She  had  parts,  and  had  seen  much." 

Admirers  and  foes  alike  will  be  pleased  to  note 
that  Edward  Wortley  Montagu,  in  the  days  of 
courtship,  used  to  direct  his  love  letters  to  her, 
simply,  — 

The  Lady  Mary  Pierrpont 
With  Care  and  Speed. 


Ill 

MY  LADY  MARY 

[Letters  from  my  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montagu,  cele 
brated  for  her  Beauty  and  Talents  no  less  than  for  the 
introduction  of  the  Practice  of  Inoculation  for  the  Small 
pox  into  England,  to  her  Friend  the  Lady  D n  in 

Paris.  These  Letters  will  dispel  the  Mystery  to  the 
Publick  of  the  Lady  M.  W.  M's  quitting  England  in 
the  year  1739.] 

Writ  in  the  year  1737,  Their  Majesties  George  II  & 
Queen  Caroline  reigning. 

I  RESUME  my  pen,  my  dear  Madam,  to  acquaint 
you  with  the  news  of  the  day,  though  't  is  what  you 
scarce  deserve  from  your  silence,  unless  indeed  a  letter 
have  miscarried,  and  't  will  not  surprise  me  if  my  last 
hath  not  come  to  your  hands,  which  if  so,  is  provok 
ing,  it  being  writ  in  my  best  manner.  I  willingly 
would  hear  from  you,  was  it  but  to  say  you  still  exist, 
for  I  begin  to  find  myself  in  the  mind  of  the  worshipper 
of  Minerva,  who,  receiving  no  answer  to  prayers  and 
vows,  discharged  a  pitcher  of  foul  water  in  her  God 
dess-ship's  face,  declaring  he  would  not  longer  be  at 
the  trouble  to  address  a  lady  who  would  not  be  at 
the  trouble  to  listen,  and  she  might  go  to  the  devil 
for  him.  'T  is  not  however  quite  come  to  this  with 
me,  so  I  continue. 

The  world  riots  on  at  its  common  pace,  and  is  now 
come  to  the  pass  that  vice  is  scarce  worth  the  pain  of 


60  "THE  LADIES!" 

concealing.  Yet  when  it  becomes  the  general  rule, 
sure  there  is  nothing  so  stale !  Its  facility  damns  it, 
and  it  then  must  simulate  some  of  the  airs  of  virtue 
to  be  alluring.  Indeed,  I  conclude  it  not  wholly 
imaginary  that,  if  it  was  made  easier  to  be  virtuous 
than  vicious,  the  whole  moral  balance  of  the  universe 
would  shift  and  our  present  monarch  and  Madame 
Walmoden  be  the  saints  of  a  new  calendar.  'T  is 
here  we  need  the  clergy,  and,  for  the  life  of  me,  I  see 
not  how  else.  They  lend  a  haut  gout  to  vice  by  con 
demning  it ;  and  if  they  should  disappear,  vice  must 
cease  to  interest  and  go  with  them.  I  gave  this  for 
my  opinion  to  the  Queen  and  Lady  Sundon,  when 
they  were  fond  to  discuss  metaphysics,  adding  that 
the  Seven  Deadly  Sins  required  the  flames  of  the 
infernal  regions  for  their  heating  and  the  Ten  Com 
mandments  for  their  encouragement  if  they  could  be 
hoped  to  flourish  in  the  future  as  at  present  —  and 
they  had  the  condescension  to  agree. 

All  this  being  so,  it  will  give  you  neither  surprise 

nor  concern  to  hear  my  Lord  H d  hath  run  off 

with  his  ward,  Miss  Nanny  Graves,  leaving  his  lady 
with  four  children.  We  shall  have  them  back  in  a 
few  months  with  reputations  so  little  worse  crackt 
than  those  of  the  decentest  among  us  as  will  not  be 
worth  the  trouble  of  censuring,  and  give  neither 
themselves  nor  others  the  smallest  uneasiness. 

His  Majesty  is  happy  at  present  in  the  loss  of 
"that  old  deaf  woman,"  as  he  lately  called  my  Lady 
Suffolk,  who  was  once  his  greatest  blessing.  There 
is  much  I  could  tell  you,  but  think  best  not  to  commit 


MY  LADY  MARY  61 

to  paper,  save  that  I  hear  from  my  Lord  Hervey  (who 
is  as  much  as  ever  in  the  Queen's  confidence)  of  the 
farewell  of  Lady  Suffolk  to  Her  Majesty.  She  la 
mented  to  the  Queen  that  she  no  longer  met  with  the 
same  attention  from  His  Majesty.  "I  told  her," 
said  the  Queen,  "that  she  and  I  were  no  longer  of  an 
age  to  think  of  these  sort  of  things  in  such  a  romantic 
way,  and  as  wishing  not  to  encourage  it,  bade  her 
take  a  week  to  consider  of  the  business  and  give  me 
her  word  to  read  no  romances  meanwhile,  and  I  was 
sure  she  would  think  better  of  her  present  concern." 
She  cares  little  who  rules  the  King,  so  she  and  Sir 
Robert  Walpole  rule  the  kingdom ;  and  indeed  does 
both  with  the  skill  of  a  juggler  tossing  balls  at  Barthol 
omew  Fair.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  she  is  as  complai 
sant  as  ever,  and  treats  the  favourites,  be  they  who 
they  will,  with  a  condescending  and  smiling  geniality 
that  enables  her  to  give  many  an  unexpected  stab  — 
the  dagger  hid  in  flowers.  'T  is  thus,  in  my  opinion, 
every  sensible  woman  in  the  like  case  should  carry 
herself.  'T  is  not  tears  and  agonies  that  move  that 
sex,  but  good  humour  and  composure,  and  thus  are 
they  left  to  their  follies  while  common  sense  pursues 
its  own  objects.  Yet,  will  a  future  age  credit  (what 
my  Lord  Hervey  tells  me)  that  our  sovereign  Lord, 
wishing  to  meet  the  daughter  of  the  French  Regent, 
—  a  Princess  whose  reputation  is  known  to  all  the 
world,  —  writ  thus  to  his  Queen,  "C'est  un  plaisir 
que  je  suis  siir,  ma  chere  Caroline,  vous  serez  bien 
aise  de  me  procurer,  quand  je  vous  dis  combien  je  le 
souhaite"? 


62  "THE  LADIES!" 

Never  was  woman  mistress  of  so  much  tact,  nor 
with  more  need  of  it.  He  struts  like  a  little  despot 
while  the  beggars  sing  in  the  street :  — 

You  may  strut,  dapper  George,  but.  't  will  all  be  in  vain, 
We  know  't  is  Queen  Caroline,  not  you,  that  reign. 

He  thinks  her  his  slave,  and  all  his  sultanas  tremble 
at  her  nod !  Lord,  what  a  world  do  we  live  in !  I 
wonder  in  how  many  private  homes  't  is  the  same. 

She  is,  indeed,  an  extraordinary  woman ;  and  for 
my  part,  despising  men  and  women  alike  for  their 
motives,  I  could  at  this  instant  form  a  ministry  of 
women,  with  the  Queen  at  their  head,  no  more  silly 
and  impudent  than  they  who  now  suppose  themselves 
to  guide  the  fortunes  of  the  country.  If  the  Gods 
have  any  relish  of  humour,  —  and  't  is  to  be  thought 
they  have,  else  had  they  not  created  such  a  miserable 
little  crawling  species,  —  they  must  often  be  witty 
at  our  expense.  Quellevie! 

I  comprehend  her  well.  When  I  give  my  friend 
ship  and  confidence  and  meet  with  a  scurvy  return, 
't  is  not  anger  nor  aversion  it  produces  in  me,  but  a 
complete  indifference.  Was  I  to  hear  tomorrow  that 
Mr  Wortley  had  a  train  of  charmers  as  long  as  Cap 
tain  Macheath's  in  the  "Beggars'  Opera,"  'twould 
not  inflict  a  pang,  so  long  as  he  kept  within  the  bounds 
of  prudence  and  family  decency ;  and  indeed,  't  is  as 
my  poor  sister  Gower  said  to  me  more  than  once : 
"  'T  is  you,  sister,  for  a  merciless  good  sense  that 
makes  you  accommodate  yourself  without  complaint 
to  what  had  drove  another  woman  distracted."  We 


MY  LADY  MARY  63 

were  not  married  two  years  before  I  had  to  complain 
of  his  indifference  and  negligence  (though  no  worse), 
and  writ  him  plainly  to  that  effect,  concluding  in  the 
words  that,  as  this  was  my  first  complaint,  so  it 
should  be  my  last.  I  kept  my  word,  and  he  his 
course,  and  we  now  correspond  with  good  temper  on 
family  interests,  and  no  more. 

But  since  I  have  spoke  of  the  "Beggars'  Opera," 
know  that  I  have  myself  become  possessed  of  a  Polly 
lovelier  than  any  Lavinia  Fenton  that  ever  played 
the  part.  'T  is  a  romance  —  heaven  send  it  go  no 
further !  Here  is  the  first  chapter. 

Being  some  weeks  since  at  Twicknam,  I  did  not  see 
company  awhile,  owing  to  my  cousin's  death;  for 
though,  as  I  writ  at  the  time  of  my  father's,  I  don't 
know  why  filial  piety  should  exceed  fatherly  fondness, 
and  still  less  cousinly,  still  there  is  a  decency  to  be 
exprest  in  black  bombazine  and  retirement.  Be 
sides,  a  thousand  nothings  kept  me  engaged.  I 
passed  a  part  of  the  time  writing  satires  upon  the 
little  crooked  viper  of  Twicknam,  Pope  —  that  may 
appear  one  day  with  a  decoration  from  my  Lord 
Hervey's  pen;  for  Pope's  last  lampoon  on  me  is 
a  disgrace  to  any  nature  above  that  of  a  baboon.  So 
all  was  pastoral  and  tranquil. 

But,  as  the  Fates  would  have  it,  walking  one  day 
by  the  river  and  (I  suppose)  pulling  off  my  glove,  I 
lost  the  diamond  ring  that  was  my  mother's,  —  the 
plainest  thing  and  such  as  may  be  found  anywhere,  — 
a  ring  about  the  finger,  of  small  brilliant  sparks. 
'T  was  not  the  value,  which  is  nothing,  but  I  returned 


64  "THE  LADIES!" 

home  in  a  scold  with  my  woman  Pratt,  that  was 
walking  behind  me  and  thinking  of  nothing  but  her 
face,  which  some  commending  have  turned  her  head 
or  she  must  have  seen  it  fall.  She  is  a  fool,  even  for 
her  nauseous  class.  Seeing  nothing  better  to  be 
done,  I  caused  notices  to  be  writ  and  stuck  about  the 
village  that  a  Lady  of  Quality  having  dropt  her  ring, 
etc.,  would  give  a  reward.  And  having  wrote  of  my 
loss  to  Mr  Wortley,  my  son,  and  a  few  friends,  fixed 
my  mind  with  my  usual  good  sense  that  I  would  see 
it  no  more. 

For  upwards  of  a  week  nothing  took  place.  I  was 
seated  in  the  garden  with  my  tent-stitch,  when  out 
comes  Pratt  to  say  a  young  woman  requested  an 
audience  of  me.  I  was  vexed  to  be  disturbed,  having 
on  my  mind  a  letter  that  morning  received  to  say 
that  young  rake,  my  son,  was  run  off  from  Hinchin- 
brook  and  none  knew  where  —  but  you  are  no 
stranger  to  his  behaviour.  I  therefore  sent  word  by 
Pratt  that  I  could  not  see  her,  well  knowing  she  would 
add  any  force  to  the  information  that  my  words  lackt. 
But  I  was  vexed  to  the  blood  by  my  young  rogue, 
knowing  not  where  to  find  him,  and  suspecting  some 
low  haunt  in  the  Fleet. 

To  my  astonishment  returns  Pratt  presently, 
flouncing  and  bridling,  and  with  her  a  young  woman 
—  Heavens !  No,  but  one  of  the  nymphs  of  the 
Thames,  or  rather,  for  they  are  somewhat  oozy  here 
abouts,  a  dryad  of  the  Richmond  woods,  indeed  as 
beautiful  a  person  as  ever  I  saw  in  my  life.  There  's 
not  one  of  our  reigning  girls  to  be  compared  with  her 


MY  LADY  MARY  65 

for  a  moment,  and  even  my  Lord  Hervey's  Molly 
Lepel  would  vanish  beside  her,  nor  could  Paris  have 
any  doubt  where  to  bestow  the  apple.  I  am  an  ama 
teur  of  beauty  and  can't  forget  your  Ladyship's 
praise  of  my  commendation  of  the  fair  Fatima,  saying 
you  never  before  knew  one  fine  woman  do  such  justice 
to  another.  So  here  I  repeat  myself. 

This  fair  creature  was  drest  in  a  plain  suit  of  minunet 
that  had  seen  better  days,  and  a  straw  hat  tied  with 
ribbons  over  a  cap  of  thread  lace.  But  her  eyes ! 
large,  black,  and  languishing,  they  would  have  recalled 
to  me  those  verses  addrest  to  the  daughter  of  Sultan 
Achmet,  — 

Your  eyes  are  black  and  lovely, 

But  wild  and  disdainful  as  those  of  a  stag, 

but  for  the  fall  of  lashes  that  hid  their  soft  fire ;  her 
hair  raven-black,  a  bloom  I  never  saw  equalled  in  this 
country,  and  her  lips  a  veritable  scarlet  and  shaped 
for  every  sweetness. 

Thinks  I  —  't  is  well  the  Duke  of  Wharton  and  his 
club  for  gallantry  can't  see  this  paragon,  else  —  but 
I  leave  the  rest  to  your  discretion,  for  your  Ladyship 
knows  "  Sophia  "  as  I  call  him,  as  well  as  I.  However, 
the  agreeablest  girl  in  the  world  came  forward  and 
dropt  a  curtsey,  with  her  eyes  on  the  ground,  and 
offered  my  ring,  excusing  herself  on  the  scruple  that 
she  must  needs  give  it  into  my  own  hand  —  and  all 
this  in  a  voice  like  music. 

I  leave  you  to  guess  if  I  was  pleased,  for  the  ring 
was  on  my  mother's  hand  when  she  died,  and  't  was 
so  prettily  tendered,  too. 


66  "THE  LADIES!" 

"Well,  child,  I  thank  you  for  your  pains,"  says  I, 
"and  will,  of  course,  be  answerable  for  the  reward; 
but  give  me  leave  to  add  that,  if  I  can  serve  you  in 
any  other  manner,  't  is  not  my  custom  to  leave  a 
service  forgot ;  if  I  am  not  mistook,  your  mind  is  not 
as  free  from  care  as  a  well-wisher  could  like  to  see  it." 

Indeed,  there  was  an  air  of  melancholy  about  her 
which  moved  me  prodigiously,  and  seeing  Pratt 
flouncing  and  bustling  in  such  a  manner  as  denoted 
her  curiosity  and  jealousy,  I  dismist  her  to  the  house. 
She  can't  endure  a  face  that  eclipses  her  own  curds- 
and-whey  skin,  and  lookt  upon  my  little  thread-satin 
beauty  with  a  true  court  malice.  I  was,  however, 
really  desirous  myself  to  know  what  had  brought  so 
much  beauty  to  misfortune. 

"Madam,"  says  she,  "my  story  is  so  common  that 
it  needs  not  detain  your  ear.  My  father  was  a  rich 
Turkey  merchant,  and  I  wanted  for  nothing  that 
money  could  buy.  But  he  was  bit  by  some  scheme 
for  making  more,  three  years  since ;  a  scheme  he  com 
pared —  alas,  too  late!  —  to  the  South  Sea  Bubble 
itself.  And  in  this  he  lost  all,  and  I  had  the  pious 
duty  to  support  him  by  my  needleworks.  However, 
he  sunk  under  his  miseries  into  a  melancholy  that  de 
prived  him  of  life  two  years  since.  I  nursed  him  to 
his  last  sigh  and  then,  desiring  to  lead  a  life  of  virtue, 
I  entered  the  family  of  Mrs  Lamb,  the  Levant  mer 
chant's  lady  and  a  cousin  of  my  father,  to  care  her 
children.  She  carried  them  down  here  for  an  airing, 
and  walking  with  the  little  misses  yesterday,  I  found 
this  ring  and  have  the  happiness  to  restore  it." 


MY  LADY  MARY  67 

She  spoke  with  a  propriety  I  can't  describe,  and 

curtseyed  to  retire.  Indeed,  my  dear  Lady  D n, 

you  had  yourself  been  seduced  into  the  step  I  next 
took,  though  how  far  't  was  prudent,  I  leave  you  to 
judge,  allowing  the  uneasiness  beauty  causes,  go 
where  it  will. 

"Child,"  says  I,  "I  thank  you,  and  as  for  the 
reward  —  " 

She  stopt  me  with  a  simplicity  and  integrity  that 
could  not  but  confirm  my  first  opinion. 

'  'T  is  not  possible,  Madam,  I  should  accept  it  for 
an  act  of  honesty  common  to  all  decent  persons. 
Refuse  me  not  that  privilege,  and  permit  me  to  retire, 
with  thanks  to  your  Ladyship  for  so  encouraging  a 
reception." 

Again  she  curtseyed,  but  I  detained  her.  'T  was 
truly  a  pleasure  to  see  so  charming  a  creature. 

"Child,  if  not  possible  I  should  serve  you  in  one 
way,  it  may  in  another.  If  the  question  be  not  dis 
agreeable,  are  you  happily  placed  with  this  city 
lady?" 

Her  fine  eyes  moistened. 

"No,  Madam.  Not  but  what  Madam  means  well, 
but  she  possesses  not  an  easy  humour,  and  Miss 
Nanny,  Susan,  Betty,  and  the  rest  are  hard  to  be 
controlled.  I  receive  but  my  clothes  and  food  and 
'tis  very  true — " 

She  stopt  what  she  would  have  said,  with  all  the 
easiness  of  a  girl  of  quality,  but  a  modesty  they  have 
exchanged  for  the  paint-pot  and  whitewash  in  which 
they  now  blaze  out.  What  she  did  not  say  left  much 


68  "THE  LADIES!" 

to  be  guessed.  'T  is  certainly  these  rich  city  folk 
for  an  illiberality  of  mind  and  petty  spitefullness  that 
inflicts  countless  stings  on  their  dependants.  'T  was 
a  weakness,  I  own,  but  it  then  came  into  my  mind 
on  a  high  point  of  generosity  (with  which  I  am  some 
times  took  like  a  colic)  to  do  what  I  could  for  the  poor 
creature.  'T  was  to  be  seen  she  was  educated,  and 
she  presently  confirmed  my  belief  that  she  could  read, 
write,  and  cast  accompts  to  perfection,  and  was  skilled 
in  needleworks  and  household  management.  Her 
expectations  of  payment  did  not  run  high,  and  't  is 
but  reasonable  I  should  consider  of  this.  So  was  I 
tempted  into  what  you  may  censure  as  an  indiscre 
tion,  and  said  I  was  in  need  of  one  to  overlook  my 
family  of  servants,  and  be  about  myself  and  my  girl, 
who  hath  picked  up  some  little  grossnesses  from  Pratt 
that  I  like  not.  Not  that  I  would  dismiss  Pratt,  but 
put  this  one  somewhat  above  her  as  her  training 
deserves.  'T  was  charity  and  carefulness  combined. 
Sure  never  was  gratitude  more  lively  exprest  than 
when  she  fell  on  her  knee  and  kist  my  hand,  protest 
ing  and  vowing  her  life  should  be  the  monument  to 
my  goodness.  And  indeed,  think  what  you  will, 
Madam,  't  is  a  girl  more  suited  to  the  company  of 
persons  of  quality  than  to  city  dames  that  drive 
behind  a  pair  of  Suffolk  Dumplings  with  coachman  to 
match,  their  own  hair  and  portliness  dressed  out  in 
the  last  mode  but  three.  For  this  girl  fashion  mat 
tered  not.  I  dare  to  swear  the  more  she  put  off,  the 
fairer  she  must  appear,  even  as  our  general  mother 
Eve  gained  no  lustre  from  her  fig  leaves  nor  furs. 


MY  LADY  MARY  69 

'T  was  not  till  the  matter  was  settled  and  she 
retired,  that  my  good  sense  asserted  itself,  and  thus  it 
said :  — 

"  Come,  Madam,  what  do  you  know  of  this  nymph 
that  you  should  be  in  such  haste  to  make  yourself 
her  guardian  ?  Did  you  ever  know  gratitude,  or  even 
decency,  in  return  for  a  favour  ?  And  here  have  you 
took  a  girl  into  your  family  that  will  certainly  draw 
every  rake  within  thirty  miles  to  hunt  down  the 
prey?"  —  "No  matter,"  says  my  conscience  (did 

you  credit  its  existence,  my  dear  Lady  D n  ?  for 

so  did  not  I),  "if  you  take  not  pity  on  the  wench,  she 
will  in  three  years'  time  be  chargeable  to  the  parish, 
with  a  brat  in  either  hand,  cast  off  for  a  newer  face." 
'T  is  the  way  of  the  men,  and  those  that  trust  them 
embark  their  little  capital  into  worse  than  the  South 
Sea  Bubble.  I  resolved  to  keep  her  very  secluded  and 
say  nothing  of  my  Polly  Peachum  (whose  name,  by 
the  way,  is  Anne  Wentworth)  outside  the  house,  but 
indeed  might  as  well  endeavour  to  stifle  a  promising 
scandal  as  such  beauty !  However,  she  arrived  a 
week  later  with  her  meagre  outfit.  'T  was  an  odd 
whim,  I  own. 

Don't  I  see  you  now,  saying  as  you  read,  "Well 
do  I  know  the  sequel.  Mr  Wortley  comes  up  from 
Hinchinbrook  and  loses  the  acorn  he  is  pleased  to  call 
his  heart  to  Mrs  Anne."  You  are  much  mistook, 
Madam,  and  was  it  to  be  she,  I  had  as  soon  that  as 
another,  for  I  might  thus  acquire  the  merit  with  my 
husband  which  the  Queen  gains  with  hers  by  choosing 
his  inamoratas.  It  fell  out  far  otherwise  to  your 


70  "THE  LADIES!" 

expectations;  and,  but  for  Pratt's  gruntings  and 
grumblings  about  cuckoos  picked  up  in  the  street, 
which  Mrs  Anne  bore  with  smiling  patience,  I  had 
vaunted  every  day  my  good  fortune  in  lighting  on 
such  beauty  and  merit. 

My  first  alarm  took  place  when  Molly  Skerret 
comes  down  one  day  and  sees  her  engaged  over  the 
lace  ruffles  of  my  negligee.  Says  she :  — 

"Are  you  mad,  Lady  Mary,  that  you  will  needs 
have  a  beauty  about  you  like  yonder  ?  All  the  men 
will  be  running  after  her.  She  is  a  close  resemblance 
to  Sally  Salisbury,  that  hath  been  the  rage  —  she 
that  some  time  back  stabbed  young  Finch  and  fled 
to  France." 

I  set  it  down  to  spite,  for  dear  Molly  is  no  beauty 
herself.  But  the  very  next  day  my  troubles  begun, 
for  the  viper  of  Twicknam,  happening  to  spy  her  in 
the  garden  in  attendance  on  my  girl,  went  home  swell 
ing  with  poison  and  writ  the  following,  which  was 
handed  about  all  over  the  place  and  in  the  town. 

Narcissa  wisely  from  the  world  retired 
So  soon  's  she  saw  her  slighted  charms  expired. 
But  since  she  still  must  hope  another  spring, 
(As  snakes  collect  their  poison  ere  they  sting,) 
She  chose  a  lovely  nymph  to  keep  her  sweet, 
And,  willing  to  be  cheated  as  to  cheat, 
When  in  her  glass  the  glowing  charmer  shone, 
She  fondly  dreamed  the  image  was  her  own. 

This  made  a  great  talk,  which  was  against  my  wish 
to  keep  the  girl  retired.  But  you  will  credit,  my 
dear  Lady  D.,  that  the  malice  of  this  little  crooked 
monster,  who  should  from  affinity  be  conversant  with 


MY  LADY  MARY  71 

the  habits  of  snakes,  would  not  set  me  against  the 
poor  innocent  wench  that  caused  it,  and  I  contented 
myself  with  the  caution  to  her  that  she  should  keep 
in  the  garden  and  speak  with  no  men  but  what  I 
judged  proper.  I  fear  none  the  less  that  there  may 
be  a  difficulty  in  keeping  her,  impossible  to  be  over 
come,  but  will  tell  you  further  in  replying  to  your 
obliging  favour  just  received. 

Before  concluding  this  epistle,  which  indeed  is 
more  truly  to  be  called  a  novel,  I  would  have  you 
know  that  Lady  Polden  was  inoculated,  together 
with  all  her  family,  for  the  smallpox  two  months 
since,  excepting  only  Miss  Jenny,  that  none  could 
persuade  from  fear  of  the  lancet.  All  recovered  after 
a  day  or  two's  disagreeables,  but  poor  Miss  Jenny 
catching  the  distemper,  supposedly  at  a  masquerade, 
fell  a  victim  at  the  age  of  eighteen,  and  was  buried 
a  week  last  Monday  in  all  the  forms.  'T  is  certain 
there  are  those  would  sooner  die  with  the  approval 
of  the  doctors  than  live  to  dance  on  their  graves 
without  it. 

My  daughter  presents  her  duty  to  you.  I  have 
designs  myself  to  cross  to  France  ere  long,  but  will 
not  be  particular  as  to  plans  until  I  am  more  resolved. 

I  am  affectionately  yours. 


(Two  months  later) 
MY  DEAR  MADAM,  - 

I  know  not  whether  I  do  well  or  ill  in  acquainting 
you  with  a  matter  so  delicate,  as  there  is  none  other 
but  my  Lord  Hervey  to  whom  I  dare  confide  it,  and 


72  "THE  LADIES!" 

't  is  but  to  you  and  to  him  I  would  be  obliged  for 
assistance.  But  friendship,  if  an  illusion,  is  the  last 
left  me,  and  I  won't  dismiss  it  until  I  am  compelled. 
'T  is  certainly  absurd  that  one  human  being  should 
depend  upon  any  other  for  anything,  for  alone  we 
are  born  and  die,  and  it  may  be  thought  the  Great 
Author  of  our  being  intended  us  to  walk  the  way  alone 
that  conducts  from  the  one  to  the  other,  else  had  he 
made  our  minds  more  accessible.  For  my  part,  if 
truth  be  a  merit,  I  can  say  I  never  had  an  affection, 
but  what  I  regretted  it  sooner  or  later,  or  made  a 
confidence,  but  what  I  wished  it  recalled.  Excepting 
in  one  case,  which  I  leave  to  your  discernment.  And 
such  is  my  vexation  at  this  minute  that,  was  I  to  be 
born  in  another  incarnation  as  Pythagoras  pretends, 
I  would  be  a  foundling,  indebted  to  none  who  could 
exact  repayment  of  the  gift  of  life  forced  upon  an 
unwilling  victim  to  please  the  humour  of  others. 

If  I  write  a  little  bitter  I  know  your  kind  concern 
will  excuse  me  in  view  of  what  I  relate.  I  am  extreme 
annoyed  and  fluttered,  yet  would  not  be  a  vain  la- 
menter  neither.  Life  is  still  endurable  when  met 
with  an  easy  common  sense,  and  this  I  call  to  my  aid 
on  this  occasion. 

I  had  a  mind  to  return  to  London  about  a  month 
since,  when  word  came  that  my  young  rake  of  a  son 
would  come  hither  for  a  few  days,  with  his  friend 
Carew.  I  knew  not  the  young  man,  but  remember 
his  father  in  the  Thoresby  days,  and  the  old  man  now 
being  dead,  the  youth  is  well  to  pass  in  the  world  in 
a  small  way  and  hath  inherited  the  old  Devon  grange. 


MY  LADY  MARY  73 

However,  I  took  this  as  a  sign  of  grace  in  my  prodi 
gal,  and  desired  Anne  to  see  the  rooms  prepared  and 
that  she  should  not  attend  me  with  my  tent-stitch 
after  dinner,  as  wishing  to  keep  flint  and  steel  apart, 
which  your  Ladyship  will  admit  was  a  prudence  to 
be  desired.  And  so  went  down  to  receive  the  young 
men. 

You  are  not  now  to  learn  that  Edward,  with  all  his 
follies,  hath  a  very  pleasant  humour  when  he  chooses, 
and  a  tongue  not  unworthy  of  his  family ;  and  young 
Carew  being  very  conversable  and  well-featured  and 
full  of  odd  stories  of  the  authorities  at  Oxford  and  the 
liberties  they  allow  themselves  under  the  mask  of 
gravity,  the  evening  past  extreme  agreeably,  and  it 
was  late  when  I  left  them  to  their  bottle. 

Pratt  and  Anne  Wentworth  attended  me  to  bed, 
and  I  desired  the  last  to  put  my  pearl  necklace  into 
my  dressing-box  with  the  dressing-plate,  with  which 
she  complied  in  her  obliging  manner  and  took  the 
key  as  customary.  This  done,  I  dismist  them  and 
writ  a  few  lines  to  my  Lord  Hervey,  and  so  to  sleep. 

The  next  day  we  past  on  the  river  in  a  water  party 
and  sillabubs  at  Richmond  and  what  not ;  and  eve 
ning  come  I  asked  for  my  necklace  and  —  Lord  bless 
me !  —  't  was  not  to  be  found.  Anne,  pale  as  her 
smock,  was  looking  in  all  corners,  —  and  Pratt,  also, 
but  with  purst  lips  as  who  should  say,  "Your  Lady 
ship  now  sees  what  co,mes  of  whimsies  and  foundlings," 
—  till  I  was  vexed  to  the  blood  with  them  both,  and 
knew  not  what  to  say  next ;  the  more  so,  since  I  had 
seen  Mrs  Anne  gathering  flowers  for  the  bowpots 


74  "THE  LADIES!" 

after  sunrise,  and  young  Carew  staring  after  her  like 
a  zany.  I  don't  doubt  but  what  there  had  been  a 
thousand  sweet  nothings  before  I  opened  my  window. 
The  house  was  hunted  in  vain,  and  all  the  comfort 
Edward  could  give  me  was  the  assurance  of  his 
father's  anger  at  my  folly  in  taking  a  stranger  into 
the  house;  which  is  most  abominably  true,  Mr 
Wortley  loving  to  find  fault  and  invent  it  where  not 
found. 

By  this  time  Pratt  was  weeping  like  a  crocodile, 
and  the  Bow  Street  runners  sent  for  to  come  and  take 
particulars  lest  the  pearls  be  sold  in  Drury  Lane. 
Indeed,  my  dear  Madam,  I  could  not  close  an  eye 
for  vexation,  and  to  complete  it  could  not  but  remark 
that  young  Carew  kept  casting  sheep's  eyes  at  Mrs 
Anne  that  looked  as  lovely  as  a  weeping  angel,  could 
such  be  supposed.  How  different  are  tears  in  one 
woman  and  another !  Pratt,  her  nose  inflamed,  her 
eyes  scarce  visible  in  swelled  lids,  might  have  been 
exposed  to  the  Duke  of  Wharton  and  his  "Schemers" 
without  an  ounce  of  virtue  lost  on  either  side ;  whereas 
Anne,  with  the  liquid  pearls  hung  on  her  lashes  as  if  to 
replace  the  lost  ones,  was  a  dish  for  the  Gods.  'T  is 
no  manner  of  use  to  scold  the  Fates  for  what  they 
give  or  withhold ;  but  I  swear  't  is  easy  known  they 
are  women,  such  favourites  do  they  make  without 
reason. 

We  returned  to  London  without  loss  of  time,  and 
the  young  men  remained  on  in  my  family  for  awhile, 
a  course  I  took  because  the  investigators  are  such 
filthy  drunken  beasts  as  I  would  not  bring  myself 


MY  LADY  MARY  75 

to  endure  their  presence,  and  thought  it  more  fitting 
that  Edward  should  direct  them.  'T  was  more  than 
a  week  ere  they  returned,  with  the  news  that  pearls 
answerable  to  the  description  were  sold  at  a  receiving 
"ken"  about  Drury  Lane.  My  blessed  offspring, 
who  (by  the  way)  is  grown  extreme  handsome,  en 
deavoured  to  learn  more  certainly,  but  was  told  with 
surprising  impudence  that  they  were  likely  out  of 
the  kingdom  by  this  time.  The  wretch  that  kept 
the  place  was  took  in  custody  and  closely  questioned ; 
but  naught  could  be  got  from  him  but  that  a  young 
madam  whom  he  supposed  a  nymph  of  Drury  Lane 
had  sold  it,  saying  she  had  it  from  her  young  cully 
of  a  lover,  and  she  would  not  have  the  sale  known  for 
worlds,  but  had  occasion  for  the  money.  Asked  to 
describe  her,  he  said  so  many  were  his  dealings  as 
he  took  no  particular  heed  beyond  that  she  was 
handsome,  and  a  way  with  her,  says  he,  that  would 
whistle  a  bird  off  a  bough. 

God  forgive  me  —  't  was  not  wonderful  I  looked 
at  Mrs  Anne,  and  the  thought  came  in  my  mind  how 
little  I  knew  but  her  own  story,  and  my  own  folly 
that  took  up  with  a  stranger  on  what  I  might  call 
a  mere  spasm  of  liking.  She  saw  it,  for  she  hath  a  gift 
of  reading  faces,  and  says  she :  — 

"Your  Ladyship,  I  am  sensible  that  suspicion  is 
like  to  rest  on  me,  for  Mrs  Pratt  is  some  time  in  your 
family  and  I  but  new  come.  This  is  a  hanging 
matter,  Madam,  and  I  beseech  you  have  so  much  pity 
for  a  poor  girl  as  permit  me  a  few  days  more  before 
I  am  handed  over  to  these  cruel  men.  'T  is  the  bare 


76  "THE  LADIES!" 

truth  that,  so  far  from  stealing,  I  would  give  my  life 
to  repay  the  debt  I  owe  your  goodness.  And  sure  I 
that  restored  a  jewel  unasked  am  scarce  to  be  now 
held  guilty.  Have  pity  upon  your  poor  girl,  Madam  ! 
and  delay  but  till  Mrs  Lamb  and  her  family  return 
from  the  Wells  to  speak  for  me." 

'T  was  so  well  exprest  and  carried  so  much  truth 
that,  though  I  called  myself  a  thousand  weak  fools, 
I  could  not  refuse  her,  and  so  set  a  week  and  la 
mented  my  own  weakness  in  regard  of  beauty,  that 
might  be  a  man  for  the  sensibility  I  have  for  it  but 
that  I  detect  their  little  cunning  tricks.  I  know  not 
how  I  am  so  oddly  made  up,  unless  it  be  the  merciless 
good  sense  of  which  my  poor  sister  Gower  com 
plained  ;  but  I  am  no  more  like  to  believe  a  woman 
ill-behaved  because  she  is  handsome  (as  women  do), 
than  to  think  her  innocent  (as  a  man  would  do)  for 
the  same  excellent  reason. 

Some  more  days  past,  and  I  had  other  cause  to 
regret  my  course;  for  passing  a  door  ajar,  I  looked 
through  the  crack,  hearing  voices,  and  found  Mrs 
Pratt  conversing  very  much  at  her  ease  with  my 
prodigal  —  a  thing  which,  though  well  enough  in 
Congreve's  comedies,  is  what  I  will  not  have  in  my 
family.  I  am  so  ill-bred  as  to  be  quite  insensible  to 
the  romantic  flights  that  are  now  the  vogue  and, 
walking  into  the  room,  spoke  my  mind,  desiring  Mrs 
Pratt  to  be  so  good  as  pack  her  boxes  and  depart 
within  the  hour,  which  was  accordingly  done,  I  hav 
ing  her  boxes  looked  through  ere  she  went,  so  much 
assurance  awaking  my  suspicion  that  perhaps  she 


MY  LADY  MARY  77 

could  tell  more  of  the  pearls  than  anyone,  If  so  dis 
posed.  However,  nothing  found,  and  so  off  she  went 
in  a  sulky  silence,  my  son  and  heir  talking  very  high 
and  railing  upon  me  for  injustice.  He  took  himself 
off  next  morning  with  young  Carew  (who  however 
behaved  very  genteelly  throughout),  saying  as  he 
flung  away,  that  God  only  knew  but  they  might  next 
be  suspected,  and  they  had  better  depart  while  their 
characters  were  safe.  You  know  the  silly  cant  he  is 
apt  to  talk  as  well  as  any. 

I  was  fluttered  and  wearied  when  they  departed, 
and  had,  what  is  rare  with  me,  a  touch  of  the  vapours ; 
but  there  was  Anne,  hearing  me  come  up,  and  did  all 
to  support  me  that  a  feeling  heart  and  good  sense 
could  dictate.  Will  your  Ladyship  credit  me  when 
I  tell  you  the  poor  girl  had  had  good  reason  all  along 
to  suspect  Mrs  Pratt  might  have  a  hand  in  the 
thievery,  but  would  not  speak  as  knowing  nothing 
for  certain,  and  sparing  to  trouble  me  with  the  under 
standing  she  surprised  between  Pratt  and  my  young 
gentleman.  Her  good  sense  and  heart  were  a  cordial, 
and  I  drew  a  little  consolation  in  considering  that  I 
would  now  retain  her  about  my  person  and  enjoy 
a  little  peace  in  a  worthy  attendant.  For,  though 
I  have  known  no  instances  of  honour  and  integrity 
but  among  those  of  high  birth,  still  there  are  excep 
tions,  no  doubt,  to  be  found  to  any  rule.  So  resolv 
ing,  I  sat  down  to  write  to  my  rake  that  I  had  suffi 
cient  reason  to  think  his  Dulcinea  might  know  more 
of  the  pearls,  and  to  request  he  would  oblige  me  by 
using  his  best  endeavours  to  trace  them. 


78  "THE  LADIES!" 

What  a  bubble  is  hope !  Two  days  later  comes  a 
letter  from  young  Carew,  expressing  himself  with 
decency  and  respect,  to  tell  me  that  with  my  permis 
sion  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  marry  Mrs  Anne 
Wentworth,  who  was  not  unwilling  to  hear  his  suit, 
since  he  knew  not  where  else  he  could  find  so  much 
beauty  coupled  with  good  sense  and  modesty.  He 
doubted  not  but  I  would  approve  his  resolution. 

'T  was  somewhat  of  a  blow.  I  had  come  to  like 
the  girl  about  me  as  a  lap  dog  or  any  other  little 
fondling.  Her  every  look  was  a  caress,  and  her  voice 
as  soft  as  violets.  Also  she  hath  mended  my  girl's 
manners  of  a  hundred  little  indelicacies  gathered 
from  Pratt 's  pertness.  I  had  willingly  kept  her,  but 
't  was  not  to  be.  What !  shall  a  young  beauty  refuse 
a  comfortable  home  and  other  matrimonial  delights 
for  a  lonely  woman !  Not  she  ! 

I  gave  them  what,  by  courtesy,  may  be  called  my 
blessing,  and  my  suit  of  blue  lutestring  to  Mrs  Bride, 
and  she  threw  herself  at  my  feet,  and  I  actually  came 
near  shedding  a  tear  to  see  her  overflowing  gratitude. 
'T  was  worthy  such  a  set  of  verses  as  Pope  writ  when 
the  rural  lovers  were  killed  in  each  other's  arms  by  a 
stroke  of  lightning. 

No  doubt  Carew  is  a  fool  —  yet  I  think  a  wise  one. 
She  will  play  him  no  tricks  and  stratagems,  and  will 
be  a  fair  Lady  Bountiful  in  his  moated  grange,  and 
will  care  her  children  and  the  poor,  and  con  possets 
and  caudles  with  the  parson's  wife  —  Pshaw  !  what 
sickly  stuff  do  I  write  that  should  know  better.  'T  is 
liker  she  will  play  him  false  in  a  year,  with  some  booby 


MY  LADY  MARY  79 

squire  that  rides  to  hounds  and  swaggers  in  with  his 
boots  a  mass  of  mud  to  drink  himself  silly  after  a 
dinner  of  roast  pig.  And  for  me,  I  have  replaced 
her  next  day  with  a  Mrs  Susan  —  the  Duchess  of 
Montagu's  late  woman,  that  hath  all  the  pertnesses 
and  the  tricks  of  her  trade. 

Well  —  't  is  the  way  of  the  world.  Set  not  your 
heart  on  anything.  A  hard  heart  that  values  nothing 
is  the  only  wear,  and  't  is  evident  Scripture  so  enjoins 
it.  My  glass  tells  me  I  am  still  a  personable  woman, 
and  't  is  open  to  me  to  find  amusement  in  making  a 
lover  —  and  myself  —  happy  if  so  I  choose  —  and  if 
't  were  not  so  dull  a  pastime.  And  there  is  crimp  and 
quadrille  for  the  asking,  and  the  new  game  that  is  just 
come  up. 

Horace  Walpole  is  crossing  the  Channel  and  will 
give  this  to  your  Ladyship's  hand.  And  the  favour 
I  would  have  of  you  (in  all  secrecy)  is  this  —  that  you 
would  cause  enquiry  to  be  made  with  caution  at 
Breguet's  in  the  Rue  des  Moineaux,  whether  he  hath 
had  lately  any  sale  of  pearls  from  England.  JT  was 
a  thing  spoke  of  as  not  impossible,  that  they  should 
find  their  way  there,  for  I  hear  from  H.  W.  and  others 
that  the  man  is  a  well-practised  receiver  of  such  goods 
from  England.  But  with  caution,  I  entreat,  and 
with  no  mention  to  H.  W.,  for  I  begin  to  have  an 
anxiety  that  I  have  not  as  yet  mentioned  to  any. 

Pray  be  so  good  as  send  your  reply  by  special  hand. 
I  await  it  uneasily.  It  may  be  that  I  have  the  spleen, 
but  though  I  have  done  with  knight-errantry  for  dis- 
trest  beauty,  I  wonder  sometimes  whether  my  little 


80  "THE  LADIES!" 

Anne  Carew  have  not  a  happier  fate  than  any  woman 
of  fashion.  'T  is  but  a  modest  grange  in  Devon ;  but 
those  two  simple  souls  will  taste  of  happiness  there 
and  in  each  other,  and  the  world  will  not  trouble  them. 
The  seasons  will  come  and  go,  and  when  they  lie  in 
the  churchyard  't  will  not  be  with  tons  of  marble 
and  scutcheons  of  lies  above  'em,  but  with  nature's 
covering  of  snow  in  winter  and  leaves  and  flowers  in 
summer.  They  '11  sleep  the  sweeter.  I  would  will 
ingly  have  her  with  me  still.  Present  my  compli 
ments  to  our  Embassador.  I  may  yet  have  to  ask 
his  good  offices,  but  am  still  in  hopes  to  avoid  this. 
Your  Ladyship's  most  affectionate,  as  ever. 


(A  month  later) 
MY  DEAR  MADAM,  — 

Herewith  the  end  of  the  romance  I  have  inflicted 
on  your  obliging  attention,  and  I  am  now  to  tell  you 
your  comments  were  fully  justified  and  I  have  writ 
myself  down  an  ass  and  invoked  as  fine  a  lampoon 
as  Pope  could  write  in  gall  and  vinegar.  "Sappho" 
will  be  as  nothing  to  it,  and  indeed  that  I,  that  know 
the  world  or  should  know  it,  should  behave  so  like  a 
country  bumpkin  new  come  to  town  is  gall  and  worm 
wood  to  myself.  I  cannot  hide  from  a  friend  what 
all  the  world  will  soon  ridicule,  and  had  sooner  you 
heard  it  from  me  than  another.  Was  you  to  reproach 
my  folly  as  I  deserve,  you  will  write  volumes  and  I 
promise  to  read  with  seasonable  humility.  Sure  I 
must  be  falling  into  premature  dotage. 

I  was  at  Twicknam  again,  somewhat  ailing  with 


MY  LADY  MARY  81 

my  common  swelled  face,  when  I  was  told  Mr  Carew 
would  see  me.  I  refused,  but  he  would  take  no 
denial  and  indeed  forced  his  way  in  —  so  pale  that 
I  could  expect  nothing  but  the  worst  news  of  my  son 
and  implored  him  to  speak.  'T  was  some  time  and 
took  a  dram  to  restore  him  before  he  could  answer, 
what  with  his  haste  and  fluttered  spirits.  But  when 
he  did  —  't  was  to  tell  me  Madam  had  flown  the  day 
they  married.  The  ceremony  was  scarce  over  and 
they  returned  to  the  house,  when,  making  some  ex 
cuse,  she  slipt  from  the  room.  He  waited  as  long  as 
a  bridegroom's  patience  would  hold  out  and  fol 
lowed  her;  but  found  she  was  nowhere  to  be  seen. 
Your  kindness,  Madam,  will  conceive  the  horror  with 
which  he  searched  everywhere,  but  could  get  no  news. 
The  least  he  could  suppose  was  that  she  was  mur 
dered  for  the  diamond  ring  he  gave  her  on  the  occa 
sion. 

At  the  last  he  had  recourse  to  the  law,  and  what  a 
discovery  was  there.  Who  think  you  was  my  para 
gon  —  the  compendium  in  little  of  all  the  female 
virtues  ?  Why,  Sally  Salisbury's  niece !  and  the 
equal  of  Sally  herself  for  worthless  good  looks  and 
behaviour.  She  is  not  yet  well  known  to  the  town  or 
I  could  not  have  been  so  took  in.  But  you  will  recall 
that  Molly  Skerret  observed  the  likeness  to  that  drab 
Sally  on  seeing  her.  Good  Heaven,  that  I  had 
heeded,  and  not  harboured  the  slut ! 

Yet  there  is  worse  to  follow,  and  I  know  not  how 
to  tell  such  folly,  but  must  do  so.  She  is  the  wife 
of  my  son,  whom  indeed  I  knew  capable  of  any  wick- 


82  "THE  LADIES!" 

edness  short  of  robbing  his  mother.  He  picked  the 
hussy  up  in  the  Fleet  and  wed  her,  and  then,  being 
in  debt,  the  thought  struck  the  promising  pair  that 
my  jewels  might  meet  their  needs.  He  took  advan 
tage  of  the  loss  of  my  ring  to  have  it  copied,  and  the 
rest  followed  easy  with  a  fool  like  me. 

"  But  I  beseech  you,  Madam,"  says  poor  Carew, 
shaking  in  every  limb,  "that  you  would  have  the 
goodness  to  review  your  jewels,  since  the  only  way 
I  can  reason  upon  her  continuing  with  you  and  pre 
tending  to  accept  my  addresses  was  to  take  time 
while  Mrs  Pratt  was  under  suspicion  to  make  off 
with  more  and  keep  you  easy  about  them.  The  pre 
tended  love-affair  with  Mrs  Pratt  was  plainly  to  be 
a  false  scent." 

I  sent  for  my  cases,  and  find  my  chain  of  diamonds, 
my  gold  etui  set  with  diamonds,  my  Turkish  clasp 
with  emeralds,  and  other  things  disappeared  with 
my  Venus.  I  enclose  the  list  and  description,  for  I 
learn  Miss  Sally  Salisbury  is  now  in  Paris,  and  it  is 
probable  that  her  niece  and  nephew  (my  son)  have 
joined  her  or  committed  the  jewels  to  her  good  offices. 
I  am  ashamed  to  give  your  Ladyship  such  trouble 
about  this  trifle,  yet  beg  your  obliging  enquiries  in  the 
Rue  des  Moineaux  or  where  else  your  Lord  may  sug 
gest.  But  by  all  means  keep  it  from  Horace  Walpole. 
I  want  not  his  bitter  tongue  to  lick  my  sores.  'T  is 
of  course  certain  we  cannot  use  the  law,  considering 
who  is  involved  —  a  point  Madam  no  doubt  laid  her 
account  with  when  she  carried  through  the  plot. 

Lord,  when  I  think  of  my  sentiment  wasted  on  the 


MY  LADY  MARY  83 

arrant  hussy !  My  green  churchyards  and  Lady 
Bountifuls  and  all  the  praise  of  simplicity  and  parade 
of  folly  that  took  me  because  of  a  pretty  face  and  arts 
from  the  gutter.  Well,  't  is  the  miserable  truth  that 
this  young  fool  (who  sure  must  get  it  from  his  mother) 
did  wed  this  slut  at  the  Fleet  two  years  since,  and 
hath  damned  himself  for  life.  He  is  now  as  weary  of 
her  as  is  to  be  expected,  and  besought  me  to  deliver 
him  from  the  consequence  of  his  folly.  Beside  that 
fact  the  affair  of  the  diamonds  seems  shrunk,  for 
nothing  can  be  done,  nor  does  he  deserve  it.  He 
whines  like  a  whipt  dog  in  his  letters. 

I  would  my  father  had  lived  to  see  the  soundness  of 
Mr  Wortley's  reasoning,  when  he  refused  to  entail 
his  estates  upon  a  future  child  of  whose  vices  and 
disposition  he  could  know  nothing.  'T  would  cer 
tainly  be  the  young  gentleman's  utter  ruin  had  he 
money  to  handle  in  reversion.  I  will  not  trouble  you 
with  the  number  of  falsehoods  he  has  stuft  into  his 
letters. 

I  have  trained  myself  to  fortitude,  and  go  about 
with  as  many  knives  stuck  in  my  heart  as  our  Lady 
of  the  Seven  Dolours  that  I  saw  in  Vienna,  but  make 
much  less  display  of  them.  The  best  news  I  could 
have  at  this  moment  would  be  the  young  villain's 
death,  for  the  misery  he  will  yet  bring  upon  himself 
and  others  is  too  certain.  For  Madam,  she  will 
doubtless  be  heard  of  yet  in  a  manner  that  the  de 
cency  of  my  sex  obliges  me  to  soften.  I  doubt  they 
will  both  end  on  the  gallows,  though  indeed  her  face 
will  probably  save  her  that  or  any  penalty. 


84  "THE  LADIES!" 

Well,  I  have  done  with  such  fragments  of  a  heart 
as  I  had,  and  wish  it  may  never  trouble  me  more. 
I  am  sick  of  the  ca,nt  of  sentiment  and  duties  and 
suchlike,  which  is  the  mask  men  use  to  cover  what 
will  not  bear  considering.  Let  me  write  of  it  no 
more.  The  open  wickedness  of  the  world  we  live  in  is 
preferable  to  hypocrisy  and  cringing.  I  will  rather 
laugh  with  others  than  be  a  laughing-stock.  I  sicken 
at  this  complication  of  folly  and  falsity.  I  go  to  the 
Bath  shortly,  and  look  for  change  and  pleasure  there, 
though  Mr  Wortley  speaks  of  passing  through  on  his 
way  to  Bristol,  I  know  not  for  what.  Lord  Hervey 
is  resolved  to  come  there,  though  I  fear  it  will  not 
please  his  lady,  who  seems  resolved  to  keep  so  general 
a  blessing  to  herself,  which  is  more  than  she  or  any 
can  hope.  She  takes  it,  however,  with  easy  good 
sense,  and  wisely,  for  there  's  nothing  on  earth,  I 
protest,  worth  a  tear. 

The  rage  for  cards  runs  higher  than  ever,  and  let 
me  conclude  my  romance  and  this  long  paper  with 
a  pretty  parable  of  them  that  is  making  the  round 
of  the  town.  Will  your  Ladyship  guess  the  author  ? 
T  is  called  "The  Goddesses  of  Chance." 

"There  was  long  since  in  the  Moon  four  Goddesses. 
One  was  the  Queen  of  Riches,  the  second  the  Queen 
of  Love,  the  third  the  Queen  of  Power,  and  of  the 
fourth  you  '11  hear  anon.  5T  is  to  be  supposed  the 
fourth  received  the  most  homage ;  for  a  thing  known 
loses  its  value,  as  when  a  man  despises  his  own 
wife  and  thinks  Lord  M.'s  a  descended  Venus,  when, 
was  the  case  reversed,  his  own  would  be  his  object. 


MY  LADY  MARY  85 

"On  a  certain  day  these  ladies,  being,  after  all, 
women,  disputed  between  themselves  on  a  point  of 
precedence. 

"Says  the  Goddess  of  Riches,  jingling  her  dia 
monds  :  — 

" '  I  come  first  with  all.  I  am  worshipt  in  every  polite 
country,  and  even  the  blacks  fight  over  the  shells  that 
are  their  coinage.  I  give  not  only  gold  but  all  it 
can  buy,  inclusive  of  such  bagatelles  as  love  and 
honour,  and  all  the  other  little  nothings  men  cry 
up  when  they  have  a  mind  to  be  droll.  I  need  give 
no  examples  though  I  might  cite  the  late  marriage 
of  my  Lady  M.  E.  at  the  age  of  fifteen  to  a  wealthy 
lord  of  seventy-five  that  shall  be  nameless.  Un 
doubtedly  I  am  Queen  of  all.' 

"Not  by  any  means,'  says  the  Goddess  of  Hearts, 
adjusting  her  crown  with  a  simper.  *  'T  is  I  am  su 
preme.  'T  is  known  a  young  rake  will  sell  his  last 
estate  to  win  a  smile  from  Miss  Sally  Salisbury  and 
other  worthy  ladies.  And  hath  not  the  Countess 

of  H 1  lately  run  off  with  her  footman?     I  lead 

statesmen  and  kings  by  the  nose.     Many  such  moral 
examples  could  I  give  if  needful.' 

"The  Goddess  of  Power,  brandishing  her  club  with 
a  brawny  arm,  then  replied  :  - 

"  £I  beg  your  Ladyships  would  cease  twattling  when 
't  is  in  my  power  with  a  crack  of  my  club  to  silence 
you  all.  I  leave  you  to  judge  whether  anything  in 
life  is  so  powerful  as  what  can  end  it.  What 's 
love  when  a  crack  on  the  sconce  can  kill  it,  or  riches 
when  a  blow  can  turn  it  over  to  the  grimacing  heir- 


86  "THE  LADIES!" 

at-law  ?  No,  no,  ladies.  Strength  comes  first,  and 
this  was  seen  when  the  Strong  Man  was  at  Barthol 
omew  Fair  and  half  the  beauties  ran  after  him  and 
poured  their  gold  in  a  perfect  Pactolus  at  his  feet. 
Show  your  good  sense,  therefore,  by  a  discreet  silence/ 

"But  still  they  disputed,  and  at  last  the  fourth 
said :  — 

"'Sisters,  let  us  descend  to  earth,  that  we  may 
settle  the  question  which  I  see  not  how  else  to  con 
clude.' 

"'But  how  shall  we  go ?'  says  the  three  at  once. 

"'We  will  go  as  the  Queens  of  Chance,  and  men 
may  sport  with  us,  play  with  us,  revile  us,  men  and 
women  alike.  And  they  shall  sell  us  their  honour, 
love,  and  whatever  else  they  have  marketable,  and 
on  the  day  of  Judgment  we  four  will  see  whose  bag 
is  fullest  of  their  commodities.  'T  is  the  only  way 
to  settle  the  dispute.  And  in  the  end  all  shall  come 
to  me/ 

"And  the  three  said  :  'And  who  are  you,  Madam  ?' 

"And  says  she:  'With  my  black  spade  I  dig  the 
earth  where  all  shall  lie.  'T  is  I  will  be  the  Black 
Hag  of  the  Pack,  and  you  shall  strip  them  and  I  will 
dig  their  graves.  Be  it  known  to  you  that  I  am 
Destiny  herself.' 

"So  they  came  to  earth,  and  are  the  Queens  of 
Diamonds,  Hearts,  and  Clubs.  But  if  the  Queen  of 
Spades  be  in  your  hand,  say  the  gambler's  prayer 
backward,  for  she  is  the  chance  you  can't  reckon  in 
the  game,  or  in  life  or  death." 

I  think  it  neatly  turned,  whoever  did  it,  and  I 


MY  LADY  MARY  87 

declare  this  little  writing  hath  so  affrighted  the  fine 
ladies,  that  Mrs  Murray  swooned  away  at  the 
Duchess  of  Manchester's,  finding  the  Queen  of  Spades 
in  her  hand  at  commerce,  and  was  forced  to  be  re 
vived  with  strong  waters.  His  Grace  of  Wharton, 
known  to  you  and  me  as  "Sophia,"  hath  given  up 
cards  altogether,  though  whether  it  be  the  parable, 
I  know  not.  And  the  viper  of  Twicknam  is  so  jealous 
that  he  did  not  himself  write  this  piece,  that  he  spews 
his  venom  in  all  directions,  in  hope  some  will  settle 
on  the  author.  His  pleasure  to  scourge  alike  the 
follies  and  virtues  of  mankind  is,  for  aught  I  know, 
the  liveliest  this  world  affords.  The  follies  are,  at 
least,  inexhaustible,  and  none  need  be  at  a  loss  for 
amusement  that  can  taste  them,  whether  in  them 
selves  or  others. 

The  Queen,  who  I  can't  undertake  to  commiserate 
for  bad  health,  so  hard  a  life  as  she  leads,  hath  had 
the  unspeakable  blessing  to  see  her  lord  return  from 
Hanover,  after  a  storm  which  induced  his  faithful 
subjects  to  believe  they  had  lost  him.  Will  your 
Ladyship  credit  that  the  wits  affixed  a  paper  to  the 
walls  of  St.  James's  Palace  with,  writ  on  it,  this 
following :  — 

"Lost  or  strayed  out  of  this  house,  a  man  who  has 
left  a  wife  and  six  children  on  the  parish.  Whoever 
will  give  tidings  of  him  to  the  churchwardens  of  St. 
James's  Palace,  so  as  he  may  be  got  again,  shall 
receive  four  shillings  and  sixpence  reward.  —  N.B. 
This  reward  will  not  be  increased,  nobody  judging 
him  to  be  worth  a  crown." 


88  "THE  LADIES!" 

Impudence  indeed  !  But  I  hear  from  Lord  Hervey 
that  she  is  counselled  by  Sir  Robert  Walpole  to  invite 
Madame  Walmoden  hither  from  Hanover,  to  amuse 
his  leisure.  'T  is  done  as  you  might  throw  a  bone  to 
a  dog,  while  Her  Majesty  and  the  Walpole  pursue 
the  business  of  governing.  I  have  no  sort  of  liking 
for  either,  but  own,  had  that  woman  been  a  man, 
she  had  been  a  great  one,  so  entirely  does  she  subdue 
her  heart  and  all  the  femininities  in  her  to  what  her 
reason  demands.  When  she  dies,  and  it  can't  be 
long  first,  from  what  I  hear,  the  fool  she  leaves  will 
drift  like  a  stick  in  a  stream. 

Well,  I  sicken  of  England  and  of  the  town  and  the 
wits  and  all  else.  My  mind  is  made  up  to  quit  this 
country  ere  long,  and  seek  peace  abroad,  where  I 
found  it  when  I  was  younger  than  I  am  now.  Folly  ! 
I  tell  myself  so,  and  yet  I  will  do  it,  when  one  or  two 
businesses  I  must  attend  on  are  finished.  'T  is  not 
that  I  am  a  lamenter  over  that  I  have  told  you.  I 
care  not  what  happens  to  my  prodigal,  and  had  sooner 
be  out  of  hearing  of  his  doings.  When  a  cup  is 
broke,  throw  it  from  you  and  think  of  it  no  more. 
But  whether  't  is  the  spleen  or  the  vapours,  I  have  a 
mind  to  cross  the  water  and  seek  a  new  earth,  if  not 
a  new  heaven.  Here  I  am  in  neither,  but  in  purgatory. 
Quelle  vie !  —  'T  is  what  I  say  daily. 

Adieu,  my  dearest  Madam  —  may  it  not  be  long 
before  we  meet. 

Inviolably  yours, 
M.  W.  M. 


MY  LADY  MARY  89 

(The  son  of  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montagu  was  the 
misery  of  her  life,  and  it  is  the  historic  truth  that  he  made 
much  such  a  marriage  as  I  have  described.  It  is  said  he 
turned  Mohammedan  after  the  death  of  his  parents.  A 
portrait  of  him  in  a  most  aggressive  turban  is  in  exist- 
ence.  The  reason  for  Lady  Mary's  leaving  England 
in  1739,  and  returning  only  to  die  in  1762,  has  never 
been  known.) 


THE  GOLDEN  VANITY 


MARIA  GUNNING 

Countess  of  Coventry 
1733-1760 

ELIZABETH  GUNNING 

Duchess  of  Hamilton  and  of  Argyll 
1734-1790 

1 T  is  a  warm  day,"  remarks  George  Selwyn  in  a 
letter  to  Lord  Carlisle,  "and  someone  proposes  a 
stroll  to  Betty's  front  shop ;  suddenly  the  cry  is 
raised,  'The  Gunnings  are  coming,'  and  we  all 
tumble  out  to  gaze  and  to  criticize." 

The  two  lovely  sisters  from  Roscommon  in  Ire 
land,  introduced  by  their  beauty,  were  the  sensa 
tion  of  fashionable  England  in  1751.  Maria,  a 
year  the  elder,  was  the  more  dashing  and  at  first 
the  more  conspicuous  of  the  two.  She  became 
Countess  of  Coventry,  and  died  at  twenty-seven. 
Elizabeth  married  the  Duke  of  Hamilton,  after  his 
death,  refused  the  Duke  of  Bridgewater,  but  later 
married  the  Duke  of  Argyll.  Four  of  her  children 
were  Dukes,  two  of  Hamilton  and  two  of  Argyll. 

So  much  Irish  luck  and  beauty  kept  the  Gun 
nings  constantly  in  the  centre  of  court  affairs.  A 
poem  celebrating  their  conquests  was  entitled, 
"The  Grand  Contest  between  the  Fair  Hibernians 
and  the  English  Toasts." 

The  Queen  of  the  Bluestockings  said  of  them, 
when  she  saw  them  together,  "  Indeed  very  hand 
some  ;  nonpareille,  for  the  sisters  are  just  alike  take 
them  together,  and  there  is  nothing  like  them." 


IV 
THE  GOLDEN  VANITY 

A  STORY  OF  THE  FIRST  IRISH  BEAUTIES 
THE  GUNNINGS 

IT  was  the  year  of  grace  1750,  and  old  Mother  Cor- 
rigan  sat  outside  her  door  in  Slattern  Alley,  smoking 
her  short  black  pipe  with  a  relish ;  and  't  was  a  good 
day  with  her,  for  she  had  told  his  fortune  that  morn 
ing  for  Squire  Tyrconnel,  on  his  way  to  fight  a  duel 
in  the  Phoenix  Park  with  Lawyer  Daly ;  and  when  it 
was  finished,  says  she  to  him :  — 

"Let  you  count  the  buttons  on  his  body-coat,  your 
Honour,  and  fix  the  third  from  the  top  in  your  eye. 
And  when  you  stand  up  to  him,  say  a  prayer  and  pink 
him  with  your  swordeen  in  that  very  spot,  and  the 
Lord  grant  him  a  bed  in  heaven,  the  old  villain,  for 
he  '11  never  be  asking  one  on  earth  again." 

And  as  she  said,  so  it  was,  and  old  Daly  turned  up 
his  toes  and  never  spoke  more,  when  the  Squire  got 
him  in  the  third  button.  And  an  hour  after,  Squire 
Tyrconnel  sent  his  purse  with  five  golden  guineas  in 
it,  and  a  pound  of  the  best  rappee  to  be  found'  in  the 
Four  Courts,  and  all  for  Mother  Corrigan,  and  she 
was  a  proud  woman  that  day.  Her  house  was  stuffed 
33  full  of  money  as  an  egg  of  meat ;  but  no  one  would 
think  it  to  look  at  her ;  for  she  had  it  all  hid  away  like 
an  old  fairy,  so  that  no  one  would  give  a  thought  to  it. 


94  "THE  LADIES!" 

She  was  sitting  at  her  door  at  the  top  of  Slattern 
Alley  where  it  turns  into  Britain  Street,  and  she  in  the 
best  of  good  tempers,  when  a  lady  came  by  with  two 
young  daughters  beside  her  —  a  tall  woman,  with  a 
fine  blossoming  colour  in  her  face  and  an  air  like  a 
peacock  spreading  his  tail  and  her  eyes  as  clear  as 
spring  water.  It  would  be  hard  to  see  a  finer  woman 
of  her  age  in  a  day's  walk,  and  all  the  gentlemen  going 
to  and  from  the  Castle  must  turn  to  have  another 
look  at  the  three  of  them.  Her  dress  might  be  hand 
some  at  first  sight ;  but,  closer,  you  could  see  she  had 
it  held  up  with  pins  and  stitches,  and  a  bit  of  good 
lace  fell  over  it  to  hide  the  wear  in  the  front.  Also, 
she  drew  her  feet  under  her  hoop,  that  they  might  not 
be  noticed,  though  they  were  as  small  as  a  young 
child's.  And  so  she  minced  along  with  steps  like 
mice,  for  fear  of  showing  the  burst  in  her  shoe. 

But  for  all  that  she  held  up  her  head  like  the  deer 
in  the  Lord  Lieutenant's  park,  and  her  pride  was 
enough  for  a  queen,  and  too  much  for  a  poor  lady 
walking  the  Dublin  streets  and  holding  her  skirt  up 
out  of  the  mud. 

But  it  was  the  two  she  had  with  her  that  any  lady 
might  be  proud  of.  There  were  never  two  such  out 
of  heaven ;  and  sure  it  may  be  believed,  for  the  world 
has  said  it  often  enough  since  that  day,  and  will  say 
it  to  the  end  of  time.  For  the  elder  was  a  sweet  rogue, 
with  hair  like  red  gold  clean  out  of  the  fire,  and 
eyes  like  a  blue  June  morning,  and  cheeks  like  May 
flowers  that  a  rose  has  kissed,  and  lips  that  better 
than  a  rose  would  kneel  to  kiss  one  day;  and  her 


THE  GOLDEN  VANITY  95 

smile  lit  up  the  street,  and  she  tripped  along  as  light 
as  a  spring  breeze. 

But  the  younger  —  sure  the  Lord  was  well  pleased 
the  day  he  made  her  face,  for  't  was  perfection's  self. 
Her  hair  was  a  dark  brown  veined  with  gold,  and  her 
eyes  like  purple  violets  with  the  rain  on  them ;  and 
when  she  closed  her  long  lashes  't  was  like  a  cloud 
over  the  stars;  and  her  mouth,  and  the  soft  smile, 
and  the  dimple  that  dipped  when  she  laughed  —  a 
man  would  stand  all  day  to  watch  her  and  not  think 
long.  'T  is  a  strange  thing  that  one  girl  will  be  like 
that,  all  beauty  and  shining  sweetness,  and  another, 
perhaps  as  good,  —  for  better  she  could  not  be  in  her 
Jieart,  —  will  be  a  poor  sorrowful  little  victim  that  a 
cat  would  not  look  at  in  the  dark ! 

And  old  Mother  Corrigan  saw  them  coming,  and 
she  took  her  pipe  out  from  between  her  teeth,  and 
says  she :  — 

"Halt  here,  my  ladies,  the  three  of  you,  and  hear 
the  fortune  that 's  waiting  you  —  the  way  you  '11  be 
ready  when  it  conies," 

"Fortune !"  says  the  lady,  stopping,  a  girl  in  each 
hand;  "'Tis  the  black  fortune  and  the  sad  fortune 
that  befell  me  since  the  day  the  gold  ring  was  on  my 
finger.  And  I  don't  want  to  hear  any  more,  so  I 
don't ;  for  if  I  had  more  to  bear  than  I  have  this  min 
ute  I  would  n't  face  the  morn's  morrow." 

But  Mother  Corrigan  rose  up  as  nimbly  as  a  woman 
to  a  dance,  and  she  looked  the  lady  in  the  eyes  as  if 
she  was  as  tall  as  herself,  and,  "Come  in,"  says  she, 
"for  though  't  is  a  poor  place,  the  beauty  of  the  three 


96  "THE  LADIES!" 

of  you  will  light  it  like  candles,  and  't  is  here  your 
luck  begins." 

So  they  went  in,  and  the  lady  said  she  had  not  so 
much  as  a  silver  bit  to  cross  her  hand  with,  and  in 
deed  would  have  pulled  her  daughters  back ;  but  the 
old  woman  would  not  have  it. 

"Leave  it  so,"  says  Mother  Corrigan,  "what  mat 
ters  an  empty  hand  today  when  you  '11  fill  the  two 
hands  of  me  with  gold  when  the  luck  comes  that 's 
coming  ?  Give  me  your  word,  my  lady,  and  I  '11  take 
it  for  as  good  as  five  guineas." 

So  she  gave  her  word  to  fill  Mother  Corrigan's  hand 
with  golden  guineas ;  and  the  two  young  girls  were 
standing  by,  their  cheeks  like  burning  roses  for  fear 
and  hope,  as  the  old  witch  caught  the  lady's  hand,  and 
gabbled  something  that  was  not  a  prayer,  and  the 
words  came  from  her  like  a  person  talking  in  their 
sleep. 

"High  blood  and  poverty.  Sure,  your  father  had 
a  crown  on  his  head  and  no  gold  to  gild  it  with." 

But  the  lady  pulled  her  hand  away  angrily. 

"Then  you  know  who  I  am.  What 's  the  good  of 
play-acting  ?  I  guessed  this  would  be  the  way  of  it ! " 

"I  don't  know  and  I  don't  care,"  says  the  old  wo 
man  with  a  grin.  "I  'm  telling  you  what  I  see,  and 
till  this  minute  I  never  laid  eye  on  you  or  yours. 
Don't  you  be  speaking  again,  for  there  's  no  sense  in 
that;  but  harken!" 

So  she  told  her  her  father  Was  poor  and  proud,  an 
Irish  lord  with  a  castle  in  a  bog  and  an  old  coach  with 
the  cloth  hanging  off  it  in  flitters  and  the  plough- 


THE  GOLDEN  VANITY  97 

horses  to  draw  it ;  and  that  he  never  gave  her  a  penny 
since  she  married,  for  he  had  it  not  to  give.  And  she 
told  her  her  husband  was  no  better,  but  running  after 
the  cards  and  dice  all  day,  so  that  all  the  world  cried 
folly  on  her  for  taking  up  with  him. 

"But  no  matter  !"  says  Mother  Corrigan,  "for  you 
did  a  good  deed  for  yourself  that  day  you  stood  up 
with  him  in  the  church." 

"A  good  deed!"  says  the  lady,  very  angry. 
"Don't  you  be  a  foolish  old  woman,  and  you  so  near 
your  end.  For  I  got  nothing  out  of  it  but  care  and 
crying  and  pinching  poverty  and  five  children  that  I 
don't  know  how  to  put  the  bread  in  their  mouths ; 
and  this  minute  I  'm  as  lonesome  as  a  widow,  for  my 
husband  is  off  and  away  in  the  country,  and  here  am 
I  in  Dublin ;  and  if  I  know  how  to  get  bit  or  sup  for 
them  it 's  as  much  as  I  do  know." 

But  the  old  woman  shook  her  head  till  her  teeth 
rattled. 

"Let  you  be  easy  and  take  what 's  coming.  I  see 
you  sitting  in  a  king's  house,  and  the  walls  all  gilded 
gold,  and  the  carpets  like  moss  that  your  foot  would 
sink  into,  and  riches  and  grandeur,  and  everyone 
bowing  down  to  the  mother  of  the  beauties." 

"Well,  if  the  half  of  it 's  true,"  says  the  lady,  "the 
first  news  should  come  to  me  is  that  I  'm  a  widow ;  for 
't  is  impossible  it  should  happen  as  you  say  with  a 
husband  that  has  n't  one  penny-piece  to  rattle  on  a 
tombstone." 

''  You  '11  not  be  a  widow  for  majiy  a  day,  and  't  is 
your  husband's  name  brings  the  luck." 


98  "THE  LADIES!" 

"You  don't  know  what  his  name  is.  You  could  n't ! 
If  you  '11  tell  me  his  name,  I  '11  engage  to  believe  any 
mortal  thing  you  tell  me." 

So  the  three  looked  at  the  old  woman ;  but  she  took 
another  look  at  the  hand  as  she  might  be  reading  a 
book,  and:  — 

"Good-day  to  you,  Mrs  Gunning,  and  good-day 
to  his  Lordship's  daughter,  —  my  Lord  Mayo,  —  and 
good-day  to  the  mother  of  the  two  beauties  that  '11 
sweep  the  world." 

And  she  clucked  and  chuckled  to  herself,  highly 
diverted  with  their  astonishment.  How  did  she 
know  it  ?  What  that  old  woman  did  not  know  would 
make  but  a  short  story.  'T  was  said  she  had  inform 
ants  over  the  whole  countryside,  like  a  Minister  of 
the  Crown. 

They  stared,  for  they  were  new  come  to  Dublin, 
running  from  their  debts  in  Roscommon  and  taking 
the  chance  to  pick  up  husbands  in  the  city,  and  there 
was  not  one  there  who  knew  them. 

So  she  took  the  youngest  girl's  hand  in  hers  and 
says  she :  — 

"You  '11  marry  the  highest  man,  bar  one  or  two,  in 
England.  And  you  '11  not  be  content  with  that ;  for 
when  you  bury  him,  you  '11  marry  the  highest  man  in 
Scotland ;  and  if  I  sat  here  till  tomorrow,  I  could  n't 
tell  you  the  half  of  the  riches  and  glory  that 's  waiting 
for  you.  You  '11  have  to  crawl  through  the  black 
mud  to  get  the  first ;  but  after  that 't  is  a  clear  course, 
and  the  mud  won't  stick  to  a  duchess's  gown,  young 
Miss  Elizabeth  Gunning!" 


THE  GOLDEN  VANITY  99 

A  duchess  I  Elizabeth's  eyes  were  like  winter  stars, 
they  so  sparkled  —  they  would  put  out  the  light  of 
diamonds.  She  held  herself  like  a  young  poplar  and 
says  she:  — 

"And  if  you  're  right,  old  woman,  or  anything  like 
it,  I  '11  come  and  see  you  when  I  get  promotion,  and 
my  Lord  Duke  shall  fill  your  pockets  with  gold." 

But  Mother  Corrigan  grinned  like  a  dog. 

"I  haven't  a  pocket,  my  Lady's  Honour.  My 
hand  's  good  enough ;  but  I  '11  not  be  here  when  you 
come  riding  back  to  poor  old  Dublin  in  yer  coach  and 
six  —  and  now  for  the  fairy  of  the  world !"  —  And 
she  took  the  hand  of  the  eldest,  who  was  shaking  like 
a  leaf  and  expecting  to  hear  of  a  prince  and  his  blue 
ribbon  at  the  least,  and  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  old 
witch  like  two  blue  lakes  with  the  stars  dipping  in 
them. 

But  she  shook  her  head. 

"A  great  man,  but  not  so  big  a  man  as  your  sis 
ter's."  (The  girl  looked  jealous  daggers  at  Elizabeth.) 
"A  fine  man,  and  the  gold  lace  on  him,  and  velvet 
and  silk  stockings,  and  gold  buckles  shining  in  the 
shoes  of  him,  and  a  big  house  to  live  in,  and  fine 
clothes  for  your  back,  and  — " 

She  stopped  dead,  like  a  horse  pulled  up  on  his 
haunches ;  but  the  young  Maria  twitched  her  by  the 
raggedy  sleeve. 

"  Go  on.     What  is  it  ?     I  want  to  hear." 

"Don't  ask  me,  and  you  so  beautiful !" 

"I  do  ask,  and  I  '11  have  it  out  of  you.  I  suppose 
you  mean  I  '11  get  old  and  ugly  like  yourself." 


100  "THE  LADIES!" 

"You  '11  never  be  old  and  ugly.  Them  that  re 
members  you  will  remember  the  loveliest  thing  God 
ever  made  when  he  took  clay  in  his  two  hands." 

"I  don  't  know  what  she  means,"  says  Maria  fret 
fully.  "But  sure  some  women  are  handsome  till  they 
die.  Tell  us  when  will  the  luck  come,  and  how?" 

"With  the  Golden  Vanity  and  a  woman  with  a 
man's  name.  And  now  leave  me,  my  three  queens, 
and  I  '11  have  a  drop  to  warm  me  old  bones  and  a 
whiff  of  the  pipe  to  put  the  life  in  me.  But  don't  for 
get  the  old  woman  when  the  great  lords  is  kneeling 
before  you  and  pouring  the  diamonds  out  of  baskets 
before  ye  —  and  send  the  golden  guineas,  and  — " 

So  she  went  on  mumbling  and  muttering,  and  that 
was  the  first  and  last  time  the  old  hag  told  a  fortune 
for  love  and  not  for  money.  She  had  not  long  to  tell 
any,  for  she  died  next  May,  and  not  a  soul  to  cry  for 
her. 

They  stepped  out  into  the  sunshine,  their  heads 
high,  and  scarce  a  word  to  say  to  each  other ;  for  all 
three  were  thinking  of  the  promises  as  light  and  glit 
tering  as  soap  bubbles.  And  Maria  would  not  spare 
a  word  to  Elizabeth,  for  not  a  woman  but  must  walk 
after  the  heels  of  a  duchess,  and  she  was  all  for  lead 
ing. 

"The  Golden  Vanity  !"  says  Elizabeth.  "Mama, 
what  should  that  be?  When  I  'm  a  duchess — " 

"I  don't  know,  and  most  likely  'tis  not  worth 
knowing."  Mrs.  Gunning  was  angry.  Her  fine 
brows  were  drawn  together.  "Leave  talking  of  duch- 


THE  GOLDEN  VANITY      ,.,!,...,'  101 

esses,  you  silly  fools,  and  go  get  the  herrings  for  "tea. 
I  have  left  the  children  too  long  as  it  is." 

So  she  marched  down  Britain  Street  like  a  queen, 
for  all  her  burst  shoe,  —  a  shabby  street  it  was  for 
such  ladies,  —  and  the  two  walked  off  to  Fish 
monger's  Alley,  and  not  a  head  but  turned  to  look  at 
them. 

"Faith,  they  're  goddesses  and  no  mistake!"  says 
gay  Mr  Councillor  Egan,  on  the  way  from  the  Law 
Courts,  with  his  mulberry  face  and  his  mulberry  vel 
vet  coat.  'T  was  to  Lawyer  Curran  he  said  it,  and  in 
a  small  city  like  Dublin  the  name  held,  and  the  two 
were  called  the  Goddesses  from  that  time. 

Old  Corrigan's  words  gave  them  courage  for  a 
while ;  but  what  can  hold  up  against  a  diet  of  herrings 
day  in  and  day  out  ?  And  that  was  all  the  poor  lady 
could  give  her  family.  What  was  she  to  do  ?  Mr 
Gunning  had  took  himself  off  to  Castle  Coote,  his  beg 
garly  place  in  the  country,  where  he  could  dice  and 
drink  in  peace  with  the  neighboring  squireens,  and 
live  off  claret  and  the  skinny  fowls  that  pecked  about 
the  avenue ;  and  she  had  the  weight  of  the  children  on 
her  spare  shoulders. 

'T  was  about  this  time  that  young  Harry  Lepel,  the 
first  man  they  met,  in  a  way  of  speaking,  fell  in  love 
with  Elizabeth,  the  younger.  The  way  it  happened 
was  this.  She  was  walking  down  Mount  Street  with 
Maria,  and  she  let  fall  her  purse,  and  nothing  in  it 
but  a  pocket-piece  to  save  her  gentility.  Harry  was 
strolling  off  to  my  Lord  Cappoquin's,  from  mounting 
guard  at  the  Castle  (for  at  that  time  his  Lordship 


"THE  LADIES!" 

lived  in  Merrion  Square) ;  and  indeed  Mr  Lepel  was 
as  fine  a  figure  of  a  young  man  as  a  girl  could  wish  to 
see,  in  his  regimentals  all  laced  with  gold  and  his 
handsome  head  above  them  —  a  brown  man  with 
dark  eyes.  And  seeing  a  young  madam  drop  her 
purse,  he  stooped  for  it  and,  coming  up  behind  them, 
saluted  very  stiff  and  offered  it,  and  the  two  turned 
and  looked  him  in  the  face. 

'T  is  certain  a  man  might  come  up  a  thousand 
times  behind  a  woman's  back  and  not  be  startled  as 
Harry  Lepel  was  when  he  saw  them ;  for  there  never 
was,  nor  will  be,  two  such  sisters.  'T  was  like  a  bat 
tery  suddenly  unmasked;  and  what  chance  had  the 
poor  devil  that  was  marching  up  to  it  like  an  inno 
cent  ?  The  only  thing  he  could  do  was  to  surrender 
at  discretion  —  but  to  which  lady  ?  That  was  the 
trouble.  Elizabeth  Gunning  settled  it  for  him. 

"I  thank  you,  Sir,"  says  she,  with  a  smile  that  had 
ruined  St.  Anthony,  for  she  was  one  that  smiled  with 
her  eyes  as  well  as  her  mouth  —  a  golden  sunshine 
that  the  heart  opened  to  naturally. 

He  was  stuttering  and  stammering.  "Madam,  I 
thank  you  for  the  happiness  of  touching  anything 
your  hand  hath  blessed." 

'T  was  sudden,  I  allow ;  but  then,  so  too  was  her 
beauty.  At  all  events,  he  dared  no  more,  not  having 
the  courage,  though  all  the  will,  to  linger,  and  was 
turning  off  when  a  queer  thing  happened.  But 't  was 
to  be. 

A  drunken  poltroon  of  a  bargeman  was  coming  up 
from  Liffey-side,  lurching  and  yawing  like  a  Dutch 


THE  GOLDEN  VANITY  103 

hooker  in  a  gale ;  and  seeing  them  in  a  little  bunch  on 
the  cobblestones,  he  took  an  anger  at  them  in  his 
wooden  head,  and,  whether  purposely  or  not  I  know 
not,  but  he  elbowed  up  against  Miss  Maria  and  drove 
her  into  the  dirty  kennel ;  and  she  gave  a  faint  scream, 
for  her  shoes  were  destroyed  with  the  mud,  and  it  was 
the  only  pair  she  had  to  her  name.  So  what  does  Mr 
Lepel  do  but  let  drive  straight  from  the  shoulder  at 
the  offender,  and  in  a  minute  the  shoes  and  the  lady 
were  out  of  the  kennel  and  the  bargeman  lying  there 
as  snug  as  snug,  and  the  oaths  he  let  out  of  him  black 
ening  the  air  like  a  flight  of  crows.  So  Mr  Lepel, 
smiling  with  set  lips  like  a  picture,  says  to  the  girls  :  — 

"Ladies,  permit  me  to  escort  you  to  your  home. 
'Tis  much  to  be  regretted  the  streets  are  not  safe 
for  beauty  unattended,  though  to  be  sure  I  have  the 
happiness  to  profit  by  the  circumstance.  I  trust  it 
hath  been  no  shock  to  your  sensibility?" 

And,  indeed,  tears  had  gathered  in  Elizabeth's 
eyes ;  but  Maria  was  laughing  like  a  Hebe,  and  look 
ing  up  in  his  face  —  the  blue-eyed  lovely  rogue ! 

"We  thank  you,  Sir.  T  is  what  our  own  brother 
had  done  had  he  been  more  than  five.  But  while  he 
is  in  the  nursery,  we  must  be  obliged  to  kind  stran 
gers  for  protection." 

"Madam,  I  would  not  willingly  remain  a  stranger," 
says  Mr  Harry,  very  eager,  and  touching  his  cocked 
hat.  "Permit  me  to  present  myself  for  want  of  a 
better  introducer.  My  name  is  Harry  Lepel." 

"I  thank  you,  Sir.  'Twill  be  remembered  with 
gratitude.  May  we  now  bid  you  farewell?" 


104  "THE  LADIES!" 

Miss  Maria  sank  down,  in  a  curtsey  so  well  devised 
that  it  showed  the  littlest  foot  in  the  world,  save  only 
Elizabeth's.  A  fortunate  bootmaker  later  was  to 
make  five  guineas  an  afternoon  by  showing  their 
shoes  at  a  penny  a  head  to  the  mob  that  gathered  to 
stare  at  them ;  but  that  time  was  not  yet  come.  Mr 
Lepel  spoke  earnestly :  — 

"  Madam,  you  can't  suppose — 't  is  not  possible  I  can 
permit  you  to  return  alone  after  such  an  adventure. 
The  sun  sinks  and  the  streets  are  mighty  ill  lit.  If 
my  company  is  disagreeable,  I  can  walk  ten  paces 
behind;  but  otherwise — " 

Here  Elizabeth  interposed,  with  a  fine  colour  in  her 
cheek :  — 

"The  company  of  our  protector  can't  be  disagree 
able  —  't  is  a  favour.  But,  Sir,  I  will  be  frank  with 
you :  we  are  in  Dublin  incognita;  our  lodging  is  not 
equal  to  our  pretensions  to  birth ;  and  in  short  — " 

She  hesitated,  with  her  eyes  dropped  and  the  lashes 
like  night  upon  her  cheek.  The  crimson  bow  of  her 
upper  lip  trembled  —  a  seductive  picture  of  troubled 
beauty.  Anyhow  it  did  Mr  Harry's  business  for 
him.  He  could  no  more  have  tore  himself  away  at 
that  moment  than  he  could  have  embraced  the  barge 
man  swearing  blue  murder  at  his  feet. 

"Madam,  these  are  misfortunes  that  may  happen 
to  the  greatest,  and  't  is  easy  seen  that  in  your  case 
breeding  and  birth  combine  with  —  beauty.  Is  it 
indiscreet  to  ask  the  name  of  the  ladies  I  have  the 
honour  to  address?" 

"'T  is  very  indiscreet,"  says  Miss  Maria,  with  one 


THE  GOLDEN  VANITY  105 

of  her  bright  side-glances;  "but  yet  —  should  we 
withhold  it,  sister?" 

"Surely  not  from  so  kind  a  friend."  Elizabeth 
spoke  eagerly.  "Our  name,  Sir,  is  Gunning,  and  we 
are  granddaughters  to  the  late  Viscount  Mayo  and 
nieces  to  his  present  Lordship.  And  when  I  add  that 
our  parents  have  fallen  into  poverty,  you  will  com 
prehend  — " 

Her  voice  paused  on  a  silver  note,  which  had  the 
beginning  of  a  sob;  and  when  Elizabeth  saddened, 
the  world  must  sadden  with  her,  so  lovely  were  her 
long  eyes  and  the  drooping  head.  Pity  poor  Mr 
Harry  !  Talk  of  Scylla  and  Charybdis  —  he  stood 
between  the  Sirens,  and  could  he  have  halved  his 
heart  (and  many  men  have  that  power),  one  half  had 
gone  to  either  charmer. 

"Madam,"  says  he  tenderly,  "I  feel  for  your  sor 
rows  more  than  I  can  express.  Might  I  but  have  the 
happiness  to  be  presented  to  your  mama ;  for  't  is 
the  most  prodigious  circumstance  —  I  am  the  son  of 
Sir  Francis  Lepel  of  Tarrington  in  Yorkshire,  and  I 
have  heard  him  speak  of  my  Lord  Mayo  many  a  time. 
His  Lordship  stood  second  to  my  grandfather  in  his 
famous  duel  with  Lord  Ayrshire  thirty  year  since.  My 
name  will  not  be  unknown.  Permit  me  —  " 

And  again  he  saluted,  very  gallant,  and  the  three 
proceeded  down  the  street,  the  girls  on  thorns  for 
thinking  of  the  dingy  rooms,  and  their  mother  down- 
at-heel,  and  the  everlasting  herrings  sizzling  on  the 
grate,  and  Lucy  and  Kitty  screaming  for  their  supper. 
'T  was  thinking  thus  that  Maria  touched  Elizabeth's 


106  "THE  LADIES!" 

arm,  as  much  as  to  say :  "Shall  we  let  him  go  ?"  For 
indeed  these  girls  had  a  perfect  language  of  signs  be 
tween  them,  elaborated  in  the  shifts  and  devices  of 
their  life;  and  Miss  Maria,  at  least,  was  an  accom 
plished  little  schemer.  But  Elizabeth  responded  not 
to  the  pinch. 

"Why,  Sir,"  says  she  sweetly, "the  name  is  indeed 
familiar.  Sitting  on  his  Lordship's  knee,  often  have 
I  heard  him  discourse  of  Sir  Francis.  You  are  no 
stranger.  Yet  truth  is  best.  We  are  poor,  Mr  Lepel. 
My  sister  and  I  are  debarred  from  all  the  pleasures  of 
our  rank,  and  our  only  concern  is  how  to  lighten  our 
mama's  burden  if  we  could.  'T  is  this  makes  us 
hesitate,  for  we  can't  offer  you  the  hospitality  we 
would." 

"Name  it  not,  Madam,  I  entreat,"  says  Mr  Harry, 
trying  to  look  into  those  too  seductive  eyes.  "God 
forbid  I  should  add  to  your  anxieties.  But  had  I  the 
happiness  to  know  your  mama,  whose  beauty  half 
Ireland  knows  by  repute,  sure  I  might  be  permitted 
to  open  the  way  to  some  pleasures.  There  is,  for  in 
stance,  a  Birthnight  ball  to  be  celebrated  at  the 
Castle—" 

"Sir,  you  are  all  goodness,  but  gentlemen  under 
stand  little  of  the  difficulties  of  poor  young  ladies  of 
quality.  How  should  they  ?  We  have  no  dresses  fit 
for  the  eyes  of  his  Excellency.  Even  shoes  — " 

She  permitted  a  foot  to  appear  beneath  the  edge  of 
her  petticoat  and  ambushed  it  again.  But  it  had 
done  its  work. 

"  You  tear  my  heart,  Madam.     But  since  that  little 


THE  GOLDEN  VANITY  107 

marvel  of  a  foot  recalls  Cinderella's,  permit  me  to  say 
that  a  fairy  godmother  smoothed  the  way  for  that 
young  lady  to  a  certain  ball,  and  there  she  met  the 
prince  whose  throne  she  afterwards  shared." 

"There  are  no  fairies  in  Dublin,  Sir."  Her  voice 
was  like  flowing  honey,  while  the  little  foot  so  com 
mended  was  bestowing  a  sharp  kick  upon  the  fair 
Maria,  and  thus  it  said :  — 

"  Run  ahead.  Turn  the  corner  and  run  like  a  lamp 
lighter,  and  let  mama  know  what  is  toward.  Hide 
the  herrings.  Bundle  the  children  to  bed.  Fling 
mama's  Irish  lace  over  her  head.  I  can  hold  him 
fifteen  minutes.  Speed ! " 

'T  is  much  to  be  said  in  one  kick,  and  it  takes  a 
woman  to  say  and  a  woman  to  hear ;  but  Miss  Maria 
was  a  woman,  though  but  eighteen.  She  smiled  like 
Truth's  self. 

"Sister,  if  't  is  not  disagreeable  to  you  to  spare  me, 
I  have  the  message  to  leave  at  Mrs  Flaherty's,  and 
will  go  forward  and  meet  with  you  at  our  door.  Ex 
cuse  me,  Mr  Lepel.  My  sister  is  a  slow  walker  and 
I  a  swift.  I  knew  not  't  was  so  late." 

Off  went  Miss  Maria.  Turning  the  corner,  she 
picked  up  her  petticoats  and  legged  it  along  like  a 
hare  at  dawn. 

It  may  be  thought  that  the  acquaintance  ripened 
in  those  fifteen  minutes,  which  doubled  into  thirty. 
Elizabeth's  step  was  slower,  her  voice  more  musical, 
even  as  a  nightingale  sings  her  sweetest  to  the  moon. 
The  shade  of  my  Lord  Mayo  might  hover  about  them 
to  safeguard  propriety,  but  Mr  Harry  drew  as  near 


108  "THE  LADIES!" 

as  the  rampart  of  the  lady's  hoop  would  permit,  bend 
ing  his  head  to  catch  her  murmurs,  and  his  nostrils 
inhaling  the  faint  perfume  of  silken  hair  rolled  back 
from  the  whitest  brow  in  the  world.  They  made  a 
pair  that  many  would  have  remarked,  but  for  the  ill- 
lit  streets. 

Maria  awaited  them  at  the  shabby  door  in  Britain 
Street. 

"I  would  not  go  in,  sister,  lest  mama  should  scold 
me  for  leaving  you ;  and  indeed  I  am  but  just  arrived," 
says  she  demurely.  And  since  she  had  not  entered, 
't  was  singular  how  neat  was  the  appearance  of  that 
dingy  room ;  for  't  was  dingy,  do  what  you  would. 

The  fire  burned  brightly,  and  if  there  was  a  deli 
cate  odour  of  herrings  and  onions,  't  was  the  worst 
could  be  said,  for  none  were  to  be  seen.  Indeed,  a 
rich  perfume  fought  with  it,  as  if  a  hasty  hand  had 
dashed  the  odours  of  Araby  here  and  there  to  dis 
courage  the  herrings.  A  large  velvet  cloak,  the  worse 
for  wear,  disguised  the  rents  of  the  sofa,  whereon  sat 
Mrs  Gunning,  majestic  in  another  of  faded  purple 
satin,  beneath  which  her  dress  remained  conjectural. 
A  noble  square  of  Limerick  point  was  flung  over  her 
head  and  hung  veil-like  by  each  ear ;  and,  indeed,  with 
the  little  cherub  Lucy  at  her  feet,  she  might  have  sat 
for  an  aging  Madonna. 

Kitty  was  bundled  off  to  the  camp-bed  in  the  back 
room ;  and  sure  the  picture  was  homelike,  if  you 
studied  the  handsome  lady  rather  than  the  ragged 
chairs.  'T  was  the  best  they  could  do,  poor  souls,  in 
fifteen  minutes,  and  wonderful  in  the  time.  'T  is 


THE  GOLDEN  VANITY  109 

women  for  quick  thinking  and  quick  acting  where  men 
are  concerned ;  and,  indeed,  the  look  of  astonishment 
Mrs  Gunning  gave  as  the  three  entered  was  inimi 
table,  though  already  she  had  every  particular  set 
down  in  her  mind.  She  swept  the  stateliest  curtsey, 
and  cast  a  rebuking  maternal  eye  on  her  daughters, 
ere  she  addressed  Mr  Lepel. 

But,  when  explanations  were  made,  how  did  her 
brow  clear  and  a  fair-weather  smile  efface  the  frost ! 
She  welcomed  him  with  cordial  kindness,  with  such 
reminiscences  of  his  family  as  warmed  his  heart ;  and 
though  no  hospitality  was  offered  save  one,  —  a 
bottle  of  generous  claret  in  a  silver  cup  enriched  with 
the  Mayo  arms,  —  't  was  given  with  such  good-will, 
and  served  by  so  lovely  a  cup-bearer,  the  fair  Maria, 
that  the  man  does  not  breathe  but  must  feel  it  worthy 
of  the  three  ladies  who  tendered  it.  He  toasted  them 
one  and  all  in  turn,  and  if  his  bow  to  Elizabeth  was  a 
little  lower,  that  circumstance  did  not  displease  Mrs 
Gunning. 

"I  leave  you  to  judge,  Mr  Lepel,"  says  she,  "what 
it  costs  a  mother  to  see  her  dear  ones  exiled  from  all 
the  little  gay  scenes  where  it  would  become  them  to 
appear.  But  what  can  I  do?  My  father's  grand 
children,  Mr  Gunning's  daughters,  can't  appear  ex 
cept  with  propriety ;  and  why  should  I  hesitate  to  tell 
so  kind  a  friend  that  't  is  beyond  my  power?" 

'T  was  discussed  between  them  all  for  an  hour  as  to 
the  Birthnight  ball ;  but  Mrs  Gunning  was  resolute, 
nor  could  Mr  Harry  dare  to  make  the  offers  that 
trembled  on  his  lips.  He  could  have  groaned  aloud 


110  " THE  LADIES!" 

to  think  on  the  sums  he  wasted  nightly  on  gaming  — 
one  half  of  which  wrould  have  adorned  these  beauties 
and  set  them  free  to  flutter  their  wings  in  the  sunshine 
of  fashion.  Later  Maria,  half-smiling,  half -sad,  told 
how  they  were  promised  luck  by  the  old  witch  of 
Dublin,  though  she  gave  not  all  the  particulars.  She 
built  not  on  it,  she  declared,  nor  yet  did  Elizabeth ; 
and  she,  a  soft  sigh  parting  her  lips,  confirmed  her 
sister :  "the  more  so,"  says  she,  "that  none  of  us  can 
imagine  what  is  the  Golden  Vanity.  Is  there  such 
a  ship,  to  be  the  ship  of  our  fortunes  ?  'T  is  that  it 
sounds  most  like." 

He  shook  his  head.  Mrs  Gunning  softly  remon 
strated  :  — 

"My  dears,  be  not  giddy,  nor  let  your  heads  run 
on  such  follies.  There  is  no  such  name  and  no  such 
thing  and  't  is  impossible — " 

More  she  would  have  said,  but  a  man  came  crying 
somewhat  down  the  street,  and  beside  him  went 
another  with  a  flambeau,  that  he  might  read  a  paper 
in  his  hand,  and  what  the  man  cried  was  this  :  — 

"Let  the  fashion  of  Dublin,  both  ladies  and  gentle 
men,  take  notice  that  there  comes  presently  to  the 
theatre  in  Aungier  Street  the  dramatic  company 
which  Mr  Sheridan  presents  to  his  patrons  in  a  new 
and  luscious  play,  by  name — " 

But  here  was  the  speaker's  voice  drowned  by  a 
wagon  passing  on  the  cobblestones. 

"What  is  it?"  cries  Mrs  Gunning,  running  to  the 
window ;  for  indeed  she  loved  the  play  as  well  as  did 
her  girls.  And,  as  if  the  question  had  reached  him, 


THE  GOLDEN  VANITY  111 

the  man  turned  towards  her  and  bellowed  like  the  bull 
of  Bashan:  "The  Golden  Vanity!" 

The  little  company  within  stared  transfixed  upon 
one  another. 

For  the  next  fortnight  did  the  three  live  in  a  kind 
of  rapture ;  and  't  is  not  to  be  wondered  at,  the  name 
coming  so  pat  on  the  prophecy.  And  sure,  Mr  Lepel 
was  no  less  moved ;  for  he  took  a  deeper  than  brother 
ly  interest  in  all  that  touched  them,  his  heart  being 
caught  that  day  in  Dublin  streets;  and  if  he  then 
thought  Elizabeth  a  beauty,  it  took  not  a  week  to 
rank  her  an  angel.  Before  the  week  was  out,  he  laid 
his  heart  and  the  reversion  of  the  baronetcy  at  her 
foot,  not  regarding  the  worn  little  shoe  that  cased  it. 
For,  indeed,  the  sisters  wore  the  same  size,  and  Eliz 
abeth  being  the  better  mistress  of  her  wardrobe,  't  is 
to  be  feared  she  sought  often  for  her  own,  to  find  them 
gadding  abroad  on  Miss  Maria's  feet  and  herself  left 
to  luck.  'T  was  mortifying,  and  her  heavenly  blush 
was  as  much  owing  to  this  circumstance  as  to  the 
gentleman's  ardour. 

However,  taken  by  Mr  Harry's  fine  person  and 
clothes  (and  which  was  the  most  potent  is  not  known), 
she  accepted  the  heart,  and  he  set  about  to  inform  his 
father  of  his  good  fortune,  for  mother  he  had  none. 
'T  was  with  inward  quakings,  for  beauty,  were  it 
Helen's  own,  is  but  a  blunted  arrow  against  a  seasoned 
heart  of  seventy :  and  Sir  Francis  Lepel  had  reached 
that  discreet  age.  'T  was  vain  to  tell  him  of  celestial 
eyes  and  roseate  bloom.  God  help  us  !  't  is  little  he 


112  "THE  LADIES!" 

cared  for  the  like.  The  baronetcy  was  poor  and  Mr 
Harry  expensive,  and  what  Sir  Francis  looked  to  was 
a  fat  balance  at  Child's  the  banker's.  Was  the  lady 
a  fortune  ?  And  when  Mr  Harry,  trembling,  avowed 
that  a  single  doit  could  not  be  hoped  in  that  quarter, 
the  old  gentleman,  his  temper  as  well  as  his  foot 
highly  inflamed  with  gout,  swore  to  disinherit  him  if 
the  matter  went  further. 

Poor  Harry  was  in  a  sad  quandary.  He  slept  and 
ate  ill,  and  't  was  provoking  that  Elizabeth  bloomed 
like  a  rose  and  troubled  not  her  fair  head  about  Sir 
Francis.  Her  mind  seemed  possessed  with  but  the 
one  thought  —  to  attend  the  Birthnight  ball  and, 
like  the  planet  Venus,  shine  in  her  rightful  heaven. 
And  indeed  Mr  Harry  could  not  fancy  her  heart  so 
deeply  engaged  as  he  might  wish ;  for  he  could  scarce 
get  a  word  in  while  the  two  peered  into  the  mercers' 
shops,  gloating  on  satin  and  muslin.  Mrs  Gunning, 
as  improvident,  was  almost  drawn  in  by  them,  when 
word  came  of  a  card  debt  that  their  papa  owed  to  Sir 
Horatius  Blake,  and  the  unfortunate  lady  received 
not  even  the  pittance  that  provided  herrings  for  six 
hungry  mouths ;  so  that  they  were  like  to  come  down 
to  dry  bread,  which  event  fairly  ended  all  talk  of  the 
ball. 

'T  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  Mr  Harry  did  not 
offer  to  set  all  the  mantua-makers  in  Dublin  to  work, 
though  in  his  heart  he  knew  his  own  credit  did  not 
stand  immaculate.  He  stormed  up  and  down  the 
room,  protesting,  vowing,  exclaiming ;  but  Mrs  Gun 
ning  would  have  none  of  it.  Says  she :  — 


THE  GOLDEN  VANITY  113 

"I  do  all  justice  to  your  kind  heart,  Mr  Lepel,  but 
't  is  not,  because  we  are  unfortunate,  that  we  have  no 
pride,  and  't  is  impossible  Miss  Gunning  should  ac 
cept  garments  from  the  gentleman  she  honours  with 
her  hand." 

And  Elizabeth,  lovelier  than  ever  in  grief,  con 
firmed  her  mother,  Maria  stamping  her  foot  like  an 
angry  goddess.  'T  will  be  admitted  't  was  a  hard 
case.  And  since  misfortunes  don't  come  alone,  ar 
rived  a  furious  letter  from  Sir  Francis,  demanding  in 
stantly  to  see  Mr  Harry,  and  acquainting  him  that 
his  appointment  in  the  Guards  was  cancelled,  and  he 
must  join  his  new  regiment  in  London  at  a  day's 
notice.  Sir  Francis  had  good  interest  with  the  lady 
whose  interest  with  His  Majesty  was  unquestioned, 
and  't  is  to  be  thought  this  event  did  not  come  by 
chance. 

Oh,  then  were  wailings  and  passionate  embraces  on 
the  part  of  Mr  Lepel,  Miss  Elizabeth  receiving  them 
with  wondering  eyes.  "For  London  is  not  so  far  but 
we  shall  meet  again,  Harry,"  says  she,  with  her  an 
gelical  smile. 

He  had  preferred  tears,  no  doubt ;  but  a  man  must 
take  what  comes  his  way,  and  be  thankful.  He,  who 
had  never  before  been  guilty  of  the  like,  now  com 
posed  a  set  of  verses  of  atrocious  demerit.  Indeed, 
the  first  two  lines  will  suffice  :  — 

If  from  my  Chloe's  snowy  breast  I  part, 
Grant  me  to  know  I  bear  with  me  her  tears. 

"Tis  very  pretty!"  says  Chloe.     "O  Harry,  I 


114  "THE  LADIES!" 

would  you  did  not  love  me  so  !  A  girl's  affections  are 
cool  and  temperate,  I  think  —  at  least  't  is  so  with 
me.  Forget  me  a  little,  —  though  not  too  much, 
child,  —  and  be  happy." 

It  might  have  been  her  mother  who  spoke.  'T  is 
certain  no  person  ever  had  the  appearance  of  sweet 
simplicity  more  than  Elizabeth  Gunning ;  but  whether 
't  was  wholly  devoid  of  art  —  Ah,  well,  shall  we  dis 
sect  the  rose  ?  Best  to  enjoy  and  ask  no  questions. 

The  day  of  parting  he  came  to  Britain  Street,  and 
solemnly  renewed  his  vows  in  the  presence  of  Mrs 
Gunning  and  Maria. 

"And,  O  my  Elizabeth,"  cries  he,  "pledge  me  once 
more  that  hand  which  is  all  my  joy.  Swear  that 
neither  raging  seas"  ('t  was  a  day  calm  as  milk  and 
the  Irish  sea  like  a  mirror)  "nor  the  brutish  tyranny 
of  man  shall  divide  us,  and  that  our  constant  hearts 
shall  never  change!" 

Miss  Elizabeth  raises  heavenly  eyes,  a  glittering 
moisture  enhancing  their  brilliance. 

"Have  I  not  pledged  my  word,  Harry;  and  if  you 
believe  not  that,  what  will  serve  ?  Sure  't  is  you  that 
rove  and  will  see  fairer  faces"  (frantic  protestations 
from  Mr  Lepel)  "yet  I  don't  doubt  you.  Farewell, 
dear  Harry,  and  remember  us  when  you  are  in  the 
glitter  of  London." 

She  covered  her  face  with  a  handkerchief,  and  he 
took  the  last  embrace,  kissed  Mrs  Gunning's  hand 
and  Maria's,  and  hurried  madly  from  the  room.  Eliz 
abeth  unveiled  her  face  and  folded  the  handkerchief 
for  future  use. 


THE  GOLDEN  VANITY  115 

"He  's  gone,"  says  poor  Mrs  Gunning,  seeking  her 
own ;  "  and  if  I  know  where  tomorrow's  dinner  is  to 
come  from,  for  you  all,  I  'm  —  a  Dutchman !" 

They  mingled  their  tears,  and  Elizabeth's  were  real 
enough  now.  'T  is  possible,  could  the  matter  be 
sifted,  that  many  more  tears  have  been  shed  for  ab 
sent  dinners  than  absent  lovers ;  and  certainly, 
though  beauty  may  survive  without  the  last,  it  can 
not  without  the  first.  There  was  so  much  of  gloomy 
and  terrible  in  their  mama's  aspect,  that  Maria 
wept  also ;  and  Kitty  and  Lucy,  with  the  little  John, 
who  had  all  been  secreted  in  the  bedroom  during 
the  adieux,  dashed  in  screaming  at  the  tops  of  their 
voices,  as  if  the  heavens  were  falling ;  and  so  sat  the 
poor  unfortunate  family  drowned  in  tears.  'T  was 
not  balls  they  thought  of  then,  nor  departing  lovers, 
but  simply  bread  and  herrings. 

A  lady  came  down  the  street,  picking  her  way 
through  the  garbage  that  adorned  it.  Her  dress  was 
hooped  in  the  mode,  and  of  a  showy  brocade,  with 
much  tinsel  interwoven  and  very  glittering,  so  that 
the  ragged  children  in  the  gutter  stood,  finger  in 
mouth,  to  see.  She  had  a  muslin  cross-over  upon  an 
expansive  bosom,  and  't  was  finely  laced  with  Mech 
lin,  not  too  clean,  and  set  off  with  a  black  velvet  rib 
bon  about  the  throat,  graced  with  a  clasp  of  paste.  A 
large  tilted  hat  tied  beneath  her  chin  shaded  an  arch 
and  sparkling  pair  of  eyes,  which,  though  not  in  their 
first  youth,  lighted  up  a  face  with  striking  features 
and  an  air  of  easy  good-humour.  If  her  critics  had 


116  "THE  LADIES!" 

accused  this  lady  of  being  somewhat  too  good- 
humoured  with  the  other  sex,  why  't  was  perhaps 
natural  to  her  circumstances  and  needs  no  further 
excuse.  Her  worst  detractors  never  denied  her  a 
good  heart,  and  an  ear  open  to  the  lament  of  misery. 
In  her  hand  she  carried  a  cane  of  fine  ebony,  and  alto 
gether  appeared  a  radiant  vision  of  a  fine  woman  in 
the  purlieus  of  Britain  Street.  She  paused  and  looked 
about  her,  bewildered. 

"  I  declare  I  know  not  where  I  am  got  to ! "  says  she, 
half  aloud.  "And  these  barbarians  —  'tis  hard  to 
be  understood  or  to  understand  their  gibberish.  If 


now — " 


And  even  as  the  words  left  her  lips,  arose  a  piercing 
wail  from  across  the  street,  in  which  three  lusty  young 
throats  united  —  Lucy,  Kitty,  and  John,  each  out- 
screaming  the  other. 

"Crimini !"  says  Madam,  "what 's  this?  Is  Herod 
abroad  in  Dublin?"  The  screams  redoubled.  She 
added:  "Tis  almost  to  be  wished  he  was!"  And 
stood  half -laughing,  half -unwilling  to  pass  on. 

"I  will !"  says  she ;  and  more  doubtfully,  "I  won't ! 
'T  is  not  my  business.  Sure  I  have  enough  stage 
tears  and  sobs  to  make  me  distrust  all  I  hear." 

She  turned  resolutely  away,  and  halted  again. 

"Poor  lady  !  'T  is  a  lady  soothing  them,  and  weep 
ing  herself.  I  will !  She  can  but  bid  me  exit." 

And  so  marched  to  the  open  door,  and  into  the 
narrow  passage,  and  rapped  smartly  with  her  cane  on 
the  door  of  the  parlour,  bringing  all  her  natural  as 
surance  to  bear. 


THE  GOLDEN  VANITY  117 

Dead  silence.  The  screams  halted,  as  if  a  tap  was 
turned  off :  whoever  was  inside  was  all  ears.  She 
rapped  again.  And  now  a  scuffling;  and  Maria 
opened  the  door,  a-nd  six  pairs  of  astonished  eyes 
gloated  on  the  stranger.  And  no  less  did  hers  on  the 
party  within ;  for  there  sat  Mrs  Gunning,  beautiful 
and  maternal,  with  the  little  John's  curly  pate  on  her 
bosom ;  Elizabeth,  lovely  as  the  day,  leaning  on  one 
'shoulder  of  her  mother;  Kitty  and  Lucy,  golden- 
curled  cherubs,  clinging  to  her  gown ;  and  Maria,  like 
a  sorrowful  wood-nymph,  holding  the  door.  Sure, 
never  was  such  a  family,  and  these  children  seemed 
made  of  some  more  exquisite  clay  than  ordinary. 

"Lord,  am  I  got  into  heaven,  for  I  see  the  angels 
about  me!"  says  Madam,  advancing  with  a  rever 
ence  lower  than  the  paltry  room  demanded.  "For 
give  an  intruder,  Madam,  and  confer  a  benefit.  For 
being  newly  come  to  Dublin,  I  Ve  lost  my  way  re 
turning  from  Smock  Alley,  and  while  I  called  up  cour 
age  to  enter  and  ask  it  from  any  other  than  these 
savages,  I  heard  a  cry  that  hastened  my  steps.  Be 
pleased  to  pardon  me,  and  say  if  I  can  be  of  service 
to  yourself  and  your  sweet  family ;  for  't  is  the  plain 
truth  —  I  'm  dazzled  as  I  stand,  by  the  beauty  of 
your  olive  branches." 

5T  is  not  possible  to  mistake  the  voice  of  sympathy, 
and  Mrs  Gunning  rising  from  her  chair,  curtseyed 
in  her  turn,  and  begged  the  visitor  to  be  seated. 
"Lord,  Madam,"  says  she,  "you  catch  us  very  unfit 
for  company;  but  so  kind  a  heart  needs  no  excuse, 
and  I  will  be  candid  with  you.  We  are  of  birth  and 


118  "THE  LADIES!" 

breeding  like  yourself."  ('T  was  a  skilful  compli 
ment,  and  the  lad,y  simpered.)  "And  therefore,  as  a 
gentlewoman  of  quality,  you  shall  understand  my 
grief  when  I  present  myself  as  my  Lord  Viscount 
Mayo's  daughter,  and  add  that  I  have  not  the  where 
withal  to  clothe  or  feed  these  innocents !  You  are 
yourself  too  young  to  be  a  mother,  Madam"  (again 
the  lady  simpered),  "yet  will  comprehend  a  mother's 
anguish.  I  am  Mrs  Gunning  of  Castle  Coote,  and 
such  is  my  condition !" 

She  wept  again.  The  lady  applied  a  laced  kerchief 
to  either  eye.  A  touching  scene. 

"Madam,  a  heart  of  marble  must  feel  for  you,  and 
mine  is  not  marble  —  far  from  it.  But  sure  such 
beauty  must  open  all  doors.  Marriage — "  She 
broke  off. 

"Alas,  Madam,  in  these  days  of  money-grubbing 
avarice,  what  is  beauty?  My  second"  -she  in 
dicated  Elizabeth  —  "  is  cruelly  rejected  by  the  father 
of  a  gentleman  of  birth  not  near  so  high  as  our  own, 
because  she  has  no  estates  pinned  to  her  petticoat." 

"Monster  !"  cries  the  lady  with  spirit. 

Mrs  Gunning  proceeded  :  — 

"And,  O,  Madam,  were  you  in  want,  as  a  lady  of 
quality  sometimes  is,  of  a  young  lady  to  write  let 
ters,  to  keep  accounts,  and  all  those  little  useful  arts 
such  as  mending  lace  and  the  like,  I  can  truly  say 
that  in  my  Elizabeth  you  would  find  solid  worth. 
She  is  graver  than  my  Maria. 

"Sure  we  cannot  have  had  the  happiness  to  meet 
you  for  nothing.  'T  was  ordained  you  should  walk  in 


THE  GOLDEN  VANITY  119 

upon  us.  Permit  me  to  ask  the  name  of  our  benefac 
tress."  The  lady  hummed  and  hawed  a  little ;  but 
not  being  easily  daunted,  she  tossed  up  her  head 
bravely  enough  ere  she  replied  :  — 

"Gemini,  Madam  !  We  can't  all  be  ladies  of  qual 
ity  ;  and  if  we  could,  I  see  not  who  could  provide  the 
wants  and  amusements  of  the  fashionable.  To  be 
plain  with  you,  I  am  an  actress  —  and  — " 

"An  actress !"  screams  Maria,  all  rapture.  "Sister, 
do  you  hear  ?  Was  it  not  this  very  day  I  said,  would 
I  could  go  on  the  stage  like  the  famous  Mrs  Woff- 
ington,  and  other  beauties  such  as  this  lady.  And 
then  should  I  be  happy  and  pour  all  the  gold  I  made 
into  my  mama's  lap." 

The  lady  shook  her  head,  a  little  melancholy. 

"Gold?  Not  much  of  that  on  thxe  stage,  young 
miss.  'T  is  found  there  —  true ;  but  —  but  —  in 
directly.  However,  this  concerns  you  not.  Madam, 
I  am  in  no  need  of  such  an  attendant  as  you  describe, 
having  my  dresser  and  - 

"I  might  have  guessed  it!  When  did  luck  ever 
come  our  way  ?  Farewell,  Madam.  Return  to  your 
own  happiness  and  abandon  us  to  our  misery." 

Heart-rending !     The  lady  drew  nearer. 

"  Gemini,  Madam  !  You  misjudge  me.  A  woman 
can  but  offer  what 's  in  her  power.  A  good  word 
from  me  to  our  manager,  Mr  Sheridan,  and  with  such 
faces  I  doubt  not  small  parts  ca,n  be  found  for  your 
daughters  in  one  of  the  plays  to  be  produced  here. 
We  even  now  rehearse  it,  and  the  parts  of  Susan  and 
Peggy  Careless  go  begging,  for  the  girls  that  took 


120  "THE  LADIES!" 

them  are  called  away  by  their  mama's  illness.  But 
dare  I  mention  such  a  proposal?" 

"Madam,  you  are  all  goodness  and  beauty !"  cries 
Elizabeth.  And  Maria  fell  on  her  knees  like  one  dis 
traught  and  kissed  the  pretty  hand  in  its  black  mit 
ten.  Twas  known  to  them  that  Mr  Sheridan's 
company  was  from  London  and  would  return  there ; 
and  indeed  this  came  like  a  sunburst  through  the 
cloud,  for  't  was  food,  clothes,  admiration,  money, 
hope  —  and  many  other  charming  things  that  set 
them  dreaming  on  worlds  to  conquer. 

They  swept  their  mama  away  on  the  wave  of  their 
delight ;  and  indeed  that  poor  lady  was  always  prone 
to  take  gilding  for  gold  so  long  as  it  glittered  suffi 
ciently. 

"And  what,  Madam,  is  this  play  in  which  Susan 
and  Peggy  appear?" 

"Child,  'tis  'The  Golden  Vanity'  — a  play  of  a 
poor  girl  that  weds  a  rich  lord  and  — " 

Heavens  and  earth !  She  could  not  continue,  for 
how  describe  the  joy  and  wonder  of  the  family !  Re 
serve  fled  away.  Prudence  borrowed  the  wings  of 
Hope,  and  dressed  her  face  with  rainbows.  Crowd 
ing  around  the  stranger,  they  entreated  her  name, 
that  it  might  grace  their  prayers;  and  she,  radiant 
with  the  sunshine  she  dispensed,  calls  out :  — 

"Why,  girls,  sure  you  have  heard  it.  'T  is  I  am 
the  leading  lady  in  all  Mr  Sheridan  produces  at  pres 
ent.  I  am  George  Anne  Bellamy." 

"George!"  screams  Mrs  G.  "'A  woman  with  a 
man's  name,'  said  old  Mother  Corrigan.  Girls,  your 


THE  GOLDEN  VANITY 

luck's  come!"  And  with  that  falls  into  strong 
hysterics  and  frights  them  all  to  death. 

But  joy  is  a  strong  cordial,  and  't  was  not  long  ere 
she  sat  up,  panting  and  dishevelled,  with  George 
Anne's  hand  in  hers,  telling  her  the  story  of  Mother 
Corrigan.  'T  is  to  be  supposed  Mrs  G.  had  heard 
that  Mrs  Bellamy's  heart  was  not  marble  in  any 
sense ;  but  what  was  the  lady  to  do  ?  For  my  Lord 
Mayo  spent  his  rents  five  years  ahead,  and  though 
his  good  nature  would  give  the  coat  off  his  back,  that 
would  neither  clothe  nor  feed  her  family;  while,  as 
for  Mr  Gunning,  that  gentleman  regarded  his  wife 
and  children  no  more  than  the  cuckoo  that  leaves  her 
offspring  to  chance. 

Mrs  Bellamy  was  all  ears.  'T  was  prodigious, 
't  was  vastly  astonishing,  she  vowed.  Maria  was 
sent  out  with  half  a  guinea,  and  they  had  a  comfort 
able  dish  of  tea,  with  currant  bread  and  what  not; 
and  she  told  them  tales  of  the  stage  and  the  fine 
matches  made  by  Mrs  This  and  Signorina  That,  dis 
playing  little  of  its  threadbare  and  much  of  its  tinsel ; 
and  by  the  time  the  candles  were  lit,  they  were  all 
sworn  friends.  They  parted  with  embraces ;  for  Mrs 
G.  was  as  easy  as  George  Anne,  and  the  girls  must 
needs  follow  the  example  set. 

She  had  her  way  with  Mr  Sheridan,  who  knew 
't  was  as  much  as  his  play  was  worth  to  offend  Mrs 
Bellamy ;  and  she  returned  next  day  to  announce  her 
success,  triumphing  and  rattling  on  like  a  girl  her 
self,  so  pleased  was  she  with  their  pleasure.  All  was 
joy  and  gladness,  and  she  named  the  hour  of  the  first 


"THE  LADIES!" 

rehearsal  and  their  introduction  to  Mr  Sheridan,  who 
knew  as  well  as  another  how  pretty  faces  fill  the  play 
house;  and  was  proceeding,  when  Maria,  turning 
archly  upon  her,  says :  — 

"Look  you  here,  dearest  Mrs  Bellamy!  Think 
what  it  will  cost  us  to  refuse  this."  And  so  holds  up 
a  splendid  card,  thick  as  boards  and  embellished  with 
a  gilt  edge  and  the  Royal  Arms  and  the  Irish  Harp, 
and  Heaven  knows  what  braveries,  inviting  the  Hon 
ourable  Mrs  Gunning,  Miss  Gunning,  and  Miss 
Elizabeth  Gunning  to  the  Birthnight  ball  at  the 
Castle,  on  the  part  of  his  Excellency,  the  Earl  of  Har 
rington.  Diamonds  were  never  so  bright  as  the  eyes 
that  sparkled  above  it;  for  the  charming  new  pros 
pect  of  the  stage  had  quite  effaced  the  ball,  and  poor 
Mr  Harry's  trouble  in  securing  the  invitation  was 
like  to  go  for  nothing. 

"I  care  nothing  now  for  it !"  cries  Maria,  and  Eliz 
abeth  echoed  her ;  while  George  Anne  looked  thought 
fully  at  the  Lion  and  Unicorn  guarding  a  Paradise 
she  could  not  hope  to  enter.  Maria  made  to  tear  the 
card  across;  but  Mrs  Bellamy  caught  it  from  her 
hand  and  did  not  smile. 

"Children,"  says  she  at  last,  "you  know  not  what 
you  talk  of.  I  would  have  a  word  alone  with  your 
mama.  Take  the  little  ones  in  your  hand,  and  go 
out  a  while  in  the  sunshine."  She  thrust  some  cream- 
cakes  upon  them,  and  they  did  so,  looking  doubtfully 
at  her  cloudy  eyes;  and  when  the  door  shut,  she 
turned  to  Mrs  Gunning. 

"Madam,  you  know  well 't  is  my  wish  to  serve  you 


THE  GOLDEN  VANITY  123 

and  yours.  But  seeing  this  invitation,  there 's 
thoughts  comes  into  my  head  that  I  must  needs  speak 
out.  This"  (she  flicked  the  card)  "  is  the  life  for  the 
Miss  Gunnings,  and  not  the  stage.  'T  would  scarce 
become  me  to  tell  a  lady  like  yourself  what  must  be 
faced  there,  but  —  but  —  't  is  much !  Ask  Peg 
Woffington  —  ask  Kitty  Clive  —  ask  George  Anne 
Bellamy !"  She  hung  her  head. 

There  was  silence.  Mrs  G.  stared  at  her,  all 
aghast. 

"Why,  yesterday,  all  your  talk  was  of  pleasure  and 
success.  Sure,  dear  Mrs  Bellamy,  't  was  not  like 
your  kindness  to  draw  on  the  poor  things  till  they 
can  think  of  naught  else,  and  now  so  far  otherwise." 

"Why,  Madam,  I  thought  there  was  no  other  way; 
and  if  so,  needs  must.  But  seeing  this,  my  mind 
misgives  me  and  I  falter.  I  'm  a  plain-dealer, 
Madam,  with  all  my  faults,  and  't  is  easy  to  be  seen 
your  daughters  are  a  world's  wonder.  I  never  saw 
the  like,  and  that  being  so,  't  is  certain  the  dangers 
are  tenfold  for  them.  They  '11  see  the  glories  and 
grandeurs,  sure  enough,  but  not  through  a  wedding 
ring." 

"If  you  mean,  Madam,  that  my  daughters — " 
Mrs  Gunning  flamed  out,  furious ;  but  George  Anne 
was  not  to  be  turned  from  her  purpose.  She  raised 
her  hand  in  a  fine  stage  attitude. 

"Madam,  I  wish  vastly  to  serve  you.  Hear  my 
proposal.  Accept  this  invitation." 

"Impossible.  We  have  no  dresses,  no  shoes,  no 
equipage,  and  no  means  to  get  them.  5T  is  absurd  !" 


124  "THE  LADIES!" 

'  'T  is  not  absurd.  Hear  me.  In  the  theatre 
properties  is  a  fine  dress  for  Lady  Modish  and  two 
more  for  Peggy  and  Susan  Careless.  Not  perhaps 
what  such  ladies  might  expect,  but  passable.  And 
—  I  know  men.  There  's  not  a  man  will  look  at 
their  gowns  for  looking  at  their  faces,  though  the 
suits  are  well  enough  when  all 's  said.  I  vow, 
Madam,  you  have  so  long  lived  beside  the  two  that 
you  forget  what  beauties  they  are.  I  wager  my  next 
benefit  to  a  China  orange  that  you  '11  have  no  more 
care  once  they  are  seen,  but  all  the  women  mad  with 
jealousy  and  the  men  with  love.  Indeed,  your  young 
madams  are  what  one  reads  of  in  romances,  but  don't 
see.  Give  them  this  chance,  and  if  it  fails,  I  'm  good 
for  my  offer ;  but  I  'm  much  mistook  if  you  hold  me  to 
it.  Gemini,  Madam ;  use  your  wits !  Would  you 
have  them  what  I  won't  name,  when  they  may  be 
what  your  old  witch  foretold?" 

She  smiled  her  charming  smile,  and  pressed  Mrs 
G.'s  hand.  The  lady  pondered.  'T  was  disagree 
able  to  owe  such  a  thing  to  a  mere  actress,  and  one, 
too,  whose  reputation  was  a  trifle  flyblown.  The 
stage  she  might  have  swallowed  —  being  the  lady's 
province  and  she  a  queen  on  the  boards.  But  an 
entry  to  the  world  where  she  and  her  daughters  had  a 
birthright  —  Fie !  't  was  a  very  different  pair  of 
shoes.  But  George  Anne  had  that  in  her  eye  that 
would  be  obeyed ;  and  seeing  it,  Mrs  G.  dropped  her 
high  tone  and  returned  the  pressure  with  an  air  of 
sensibility. 

"Twas  said  by  old  Corrigan  that  'twas  you  to 


THE  GOLDEN  VANITY  125 

bring  us  luck,  dearest  Madam,  and  't  is  certain  you 
are  prudence  itself.  Sure  a  mother  can  risk  nothing 
for  her  darlings.  If  you  will  ensure  us  the  dresses,  I 
accept;  and,  indeed,  my  Lord  Harrington's  father 
was  a  friend  of  my  own  revered  father  in  happier 
days.  'Tis  possible — " 

"T  is  certain,"  cries  George  Anne  gaily.  "Not  a 
word  will  I  drop  to  Mr  Sheridan,  who  is  a  perfect 
Israelite  where  theatre  matters  are  in  hand.  Count 


on  me." 


She  was  gone  ere  the  girls  returned,  and  't  is  need 
less  to  tell  their  wonder.  They  preferred  the  stage, 
yet  condescended  to  say  they  would  favour  the  ball, 
since  Mrs  Bellamy  counselled  it.  "But,  never, 
never  will  it  turn  my  heart  from  the  charming  foot 
lights!"  says  Maria.  "What  say  you,  sister?" 

"I  know  not.  My  taste  is  quieter  than  yours.  I 
will  tell  you  my  mind  the  day  after  the  ball.  Poor 
Harry  —  't  is  he  has  given  us  this." 

She  would  say  no  more,  but  sat  thoughtful. 

'T  was  the  evening  of  th,e  Birthnight  ball  when 
George  Anne  arrived,  in  a  hackney  coach,  attended 
by  her  dresser,  and  scarce  visible  for  mantua  boxes. 
The  three  children  were  put  away  —  their  usual  fate 
—  in  the  beds  within,  and  though  not  able  to  sleep  for 
excitement,  were  mute  as  mice,  lest  they  be  punished 
by  the  closing  of  the  door  upon  the  ravishing  glimpses 
they  had  of  the  parlour. 

'T  is  not  for  a  mere  scribbler  to  intrude  upon  the 
chaste  mysteries  of  the  toilet.  Suffice  it  therefore  to 


126  "THE  LADIES!" 

say  that,  when  all  was  completed,  George  Anne  and 
Mrs  March  the  dresser  stood  back,  breathless,  to 
contemplate  the  work  of  their  hands. 

Mrs  Gunning,  her  fine  brown  hair  piled  on  her  head 
into  an  edifice  twisted  with  gauze  and  feathers  that 
granted  her  five  inches  more  of  height,  looked  a 
Roman  empress  —  her  fine  bust  displayed  to  advan 
tage  and  sustaining  a  necklace  of  stage  emeralds  set  in 
pinchbeck,  which  could  not  be  told  from  the  veri 
table  jewels,  so  closely  were  they  copied  for  George 
Anne  from  her  Grace  the  Duchess  of  Bridgewater's. 
Her  hoop  was  very  wide,  and  over  it  a  green  satin 
brocade  flowered  with  gold,  wherein  George  Anne  had 
played  Lady  Modish  but  twenty  times,  and  so  rich 
that 't  would  serve  her  great-granddaughter.  'T  was 
ruffled  at  neck  and  elbow  with  Mechlin,  and  the  girls 
gazed  in  awe  at  their  splendid  mama.  Twas  a 
changed  woman.  She  expanded,  she  glided,  she 
moved,  as  a  swan  floating  through  her  native  ele 
ment  differs  from  the  same  lurching  along  the  bank. 

But  Elizabeth  —  O  beautiful !  Sure  't  was  joy  to 
see  her!  Her  hair,  agleam  with  gold,  was  rolled 
back  and  carried  in  massive  braids  that  crowned  and 
bound  her  head  in  the  Grecian  taste,  confined  by  a 
bandeau  of  pearls  that  crossed  her  brow.  Her  Grecian 
robe  (indeed  the  fair  Miss  Lebeau  had  played  Calista 
in  it)  was  a  white  satin  with  a  fall  of  lace,  and  round 
her  slender  throat  a  chain  of  seed  pearl.  Mrs  Bel 
lamy  knew  her  business.  'T  was  simple,  but  simplicity 
becomes  a  goddess,  and  frills  and  flounces  can  but  dis 
tract  the  eye  from  loveliness  that  seems  native  to 


THE  GOLDEN  VANITY  127 

heaven.  Her  mother  surveyed  her  in  a  kind  of  amaze 
and  then  turned  to  Maria. 

'T  was  peculiar  to  these  two  fair  sisters  that  they 
adorned  each  other  and  each  appeared  more  beautiful 
when  both  were  in  company.  Indeed  't  was  said  later 
that  this  contributed  much  to  their  triumphs.  Maria 
now  appeared  in  a  fine  India  muslin  embroidered  in 
gold  wheat-ears  —  a  robe  which  't  is  to  be  feared  Mr 
Sidney  of  the  East  India  Company,  the  rich  nabob  of 
Jubblepore,  had  laid  at  the  feet  of  George  Anne  in  pur 
suance  of  a  suit  not  wholly  disdained.  No  matter ! 
On  Maria  it  shone  like  the  raiment  of  the  youngest  of 
the  angels,  draping  yet  expressing  her  fair  limbs  with 
a  seductive  reserve  that  was  art  embellishing  nature. 
She  had  a  row  of  seed  pearl  like  her  sister,  and  one 
rose  of  faintest  pink  nestled  in  her  virgin  bosom.  Her 
hair  of  burning  gold  was  dressed  in  curls  a  la  mouton, 
as  Mrs  March  expressed  it,  and  a  string  of  pearls 
wove  through  the  rich  tresses. 

But 't  is  useless  to  describe  beauty.  As  well  dry  a 
rose  in  a  book  and  look  for  bloom  and  dew.  It  de 
pends  on  bright  eye  and  smiling  lip  and  wordless 
sweetness  and  the  fall  of  exquisite  lashes  and  the  tone 
of  music  and  —  and  this  poor  scribbler  lays  down  his 
pen  and  attempts  no  more  to  paint  where  the  great 
artists  later  owned  themselves  vanquished. 

"And  all  is  prepared,"  cries  George  Anne,  exulting. 
"For  my  mother's  job  coach  is  at  hand  to  take  my 
three  beauties ;  and  distress  not  yourself,  my  dearest 
Madam,  for  I  engage  to  remain  with  your  little  family 
and  will  return  in  the  coach  when  it  deposits  you  here. 


128  "THE  LADIES!" 

And  now,  children,  peep  and  whisper  no  longer,  but 
come  see  your  lovely  mama  and  sisters  before  they 
go  to  conquer  the  world." 

JT  was  the  kindest  heart !  She  clapped  her  hands, 
and  in  rushed  the  three  children  like  Bedlam  let 
loose,  careering  round  and  about  the  three,  shouting, 
laughing,  and  begging  to  be  took  also.  Raisins  and 
oranges  from  George  Anne's  reticule  alone  restored 
them  to  their  beds  in  peace. 

'The  Golden  Vanity*  has  sent  forth  two  incom 
parable  beauties,"  says  she  at  the  door  as  they 
stepped  into  the  coach.  "May  it  bring  them  the  luck 
of  its  heroine  and  more." 

St.  Patrick's  Hall  was  all  of  a  blaze  with  wax 
candles  and  flambeaux,  and  shining  mirrors  set  in 
with  gilt  Cupids,  and  twinkling  of  fairy  lights  in  the 
great  glass  lustres  and  their  glittering  chains  of  drops 
and  pendants.  Garlands  of  green,  with  roses  inter 
spersed,  were  in  swags  and  loops  about  the  splendid 
walls,  where  hung  the  pictures  of  bygone  viceroys  in 
ribbon  and  star,  in  frames  to  match  the  mirrors  that 
multiplied  the  scene  a  hundredfold. 

And,  more  than  all,  the  handsomest  women  in  Ire 
land  were  decked  out  in  silks  and  satins  and  all  the 
family  jewels,  and  they  sparkling  like  the  lustres 
above  their  heads.  And  all  the  gentlemen  in  uni 
forms  and  silk  stockings  showing  off  their  fine  calves, 
and  they  strutting  with  their  swords  and  squiring  the 
ladies  and  bowing.  And  above  it  all  the  Throne,  with 
the  velvet  canopy  and  the  Royal  Arms,  and  my  Lord 


THE  GOLDEN  VANITY  129 

Harrington,  his  Excellency,  sitting  like  a  picture  of 
himself,  with  his  stars  and  orders  and  his  coat  of  sky- 
blue  velvet  laced  arid  embroidered  with  gold ;  and  as 
each  pretty  lady  came  up  to  him  and  swept  her  curtsey 
he  lifted  her  by  the  hand  and  kissed  her  cheek;  for 
the  Viceroy  has  that  privilege,  and  many  a  man 
envied  him  a  few  of  the  kisses,  if  they  did  not  envy 
them  all. 

And  now  at  the  great  doors  appeared  three  ladies, 
quietly,  like  persons  used  to  assemblies,  though  to  be 
honest  their  knees  were  trembling  under  them  and 
their  little  hearts  quaking.  So  they  were  passed  on 
from  one  golden  image  to  another,  until  they  arrived 
before  his  Excellency,  the  company  politely  making 
way,  and  a  whisper  that  rose  to  a  buzz  running  with 
them.  "Lord!  who  are  they?"  —  "Who  can  they 
be  ?"  —  "Look  at  the  girls !"  —  "Exquisite !"  — 
"Beautiful!"  —  "For  my  part  I  see  nothing  in 
them.  Vilely  dressed.  Very  far  from  modish."  — 
"Too  tall."  —  "Too  short"  —  in  fact,  every  expres 
sion  of  approval  and  disfavour.  But  every  lady  stood 
on  the  tips  of  her  satin  shoes  to  see,  and  every  gen 
tleman  took  the  fullest  advantage  of  his  height ;  and 
had  poor  Harry  been  there,  he  had  died  of  jealousy. 
Alas !  even  his  fond  letters  were  not  in  Elizabeth's 
gentle  bosom,  but  tossed  forgot  on  the  bed  in  Britain 
Street,  with  George  Anne  casting  the  eye  of  sensi 
bility  on  them. 

And  now  the  officer  who  performed  the  introduc 
tion  took  Mrs  Gunning's  gloved  hand,  very  stately, 
and  led  her  before  the  Throne. 


130  "THE  LADIES!" 

"The  Honourable  Mrs  Gunning,  your  Excellency." 

Down  she  flowed  in  a  magnificent  curtsey,  her 
hands  supporting  her  brocade  on  either  side,  her 
head  bent  majestic  —  Beauty  adoring  Power.  Sud 
denly  my  Lord  steps  nimbly  forward  on  the  dais. 

"What?"  he  cries.  "Do  my  eyes  deceive  me? 
Impossible  !  But  sure  I  have  the  happiness  to  see  the 
daughter  of  my  old  friend,  and  I  am  honoured  beyond 
expression  to  welcome  her  beneath  my  roof.  Where 
have  you  been  retired?  And  what  are  these  two 
lovely  nymphs  ?  Your  daughters  ?  No,  sure  it  can't 
be  and  you  all  youth  and  beauty  yourself.  Present 
them." 

And  while  mama  blushed  and  bridled,  the  magic 
words  were  spoke,  and  the  two  dropped  the  gentlest 
curtseys,  and  rising,  received  a  salute  more  than 
usual  warm  from  his  Excellency  on  either  fair  blush 
ing  cheek.  'T  was  observed  he  lingered  an  instant 
on  Maria's.  Viceroys,  too,  are  human. 

'T  was  an  instantaneous  conquest  —  how  could  it 
be  otherwise  ?  A  moment  later  they  were  the  centre 
of  a  competing  crowd  of  gentlemen,  and  glances  of 
coldness  and  aversion  raining  on  them  from  ladies 
only  a  little  less  fair  and  now  deserted.  That  his 
Excellency  was  the  first  victim,  none  could  doubt, 
for  when  he  was  not  in  company  with  the  beauties, 
he  was  discoursing  of  them  to  others.  True  it  is  that 
he  conducted  the  Dowager  Rathconnel  to  the  supper- 
table,  but  equally  true  that  he  left  the  lady  seated 
before  such  dainties  as  ensure  an  old  age  of  gout, 
disengaging  himself  with  a  nimble  wit  that  should 


THE  GOLDEN  VANITY  131 

have  appeased  her,  and  sought  out  the  mother  of  the 
Graces,  devoting  himself  to  memories  of  old  times 
with  a  gusto,  while  Maria  and  Elizabeth  danced  and 
smiled  on  their  adorers,  blooming  and  beautiful. 

"My  dear  Madam,"  says  his  Lordship,  "how  is  it 
possible  that  you  have  lived  so  retired  for  fifteen 
years  ?  'T  was  not  justice  to  your  admirers  —  of 
whom  I  was  ever  one.  How  came  it  about  ?  " 

"Why,  your  Excellency,"  says  the  lady  very  seri 
ous,  "  't  was  not  with  my  good-will.  You  know  well 
that  my  late  father's  good  heart  was  his  chief  pos 
session  ;  and  my  husband  —  alas  !" 

Sure  a  pause  and  downcast  eyes  are  more  expres 
sive  than  any  words.  His  Excellency  shook  his 
majestic  peruke,  and  echoed  the  lady. 

"Alas!  Cards,  horses,  the  bottle  —  how  many  a 
wife  and  mother  hath  had  cause  to  curse  that  fatal 
trinity  !  And  't  is  even  so,  Madam  ?" 

She  applied  George  Anne's  laced  handkerchief  to 
her  eye,  then  smiled  faintly  and  seeing  opportunity, 
seized  it. 

"I  would  not  cloud  this  festive  scene,  your  Excel 
lency,  yet  why  should  I  reserve  from  a  tried  friend 
that  I  and  my  poor  daughters  —  " 

"Yes,  yes!"  cries  his  Lordship,  very  impatient. 

" — Are  here  this  night  in  borrowed  dress,"  con 
tinues  Mrs  G.  solemnly,  "and  are  indebted  even  for 
the  shoes  upon  their  feet  to  the  kindness  of  an  actress, 
Mrs  Bellamy." 

"Good  Ged!"  says  Lord  Harrington,  genuinely 
shocked,  and  the  more  so  that  he  had  himself  known 


132  "THE  LADIES!" 

Mrs  Bellamy  some  years  since.  "Sure  it  can't  be! 
I  won 't  believe  it.  Indeed,  we  must  discourse  further 
of  this.  Come  hither  !" 

Profoundly  interested,  he  led  her  to  a  withdraw- 
ing-room  and  there  they  fell  into  so  deep  discus 
sion  that  never  had  he  been  such  a  negligent  host. 
And  when  Mrs  Gunning  left  the  withdrawing-room, 
it  was  with  an  imperial  head  held  high,  and  a  flush  in 
her  cheek  which  became  her  so  well  that  the  most 
prying  female  eye  would  not  give  her  a  day  over 
thirty. 

His  Excellency  led  out  Maria  to  a  minuet.  Twice 
he  took  Elizabeth  down  the  country  dances.  The 
generous  wines  had  warmed  his  heart,  the  glow  of 
beauty  kindled  it  to  flame,  and  it  was  plain  to  be 
seen  that  his  eyes  were  only  for  the  fair  Gunnings. 
The  world  followed  his  example,  —  when  does  it 
otherwise  ?  —  and  a  petal  from  Maria's  rose,  a  look 
from  the  violet  dark-lashed  eyes  of  Elizabeth,  were 
the  prizes  of  the  night. 

A  party  of  noblemen  escorted  them  to  the  doors  on 
leaving,  and  't  was  with  the  utmost  difficulty  Mrs 
Gunning  persuaded  them  it  was  unnecessary  to  ride 
in  cavalcade  about  the  coach  to  Britain  Street.  When 
the  ladies  were  gone,  they  returned  to  the  Banquet 
ing  Hall  to  toast  "The  Irish  Beauties,"  and  break 
their  glasses  in  their  honour  until  the  floor  was  strewn 
with  broken  crystal,  and  the  celebrants  were  most  of 
them  borne  speechless  to  their  beds.  Indeed,  a  chal 
lenge  passed  between  my  Lords  Cappoquin  and  Tuam 
upon  a  dispute  as  to  which  lady  was  the  greater  Venus. 


THE  GOLDEN  VANITY  133 

Never  was  such  a  triumph !  And  Mrs  Gunning, 
falling  into  George  Anne's  arms  in  Britain  Street, 
declared  with  tears  of  joy: — 

"You  were  right,  entirely  right,  my  dearest 
Madam.  I  am  promised  a  handsome  pension  on  the 
Irish  Establishment,  and  his  Excellency  counsels  me 
to  transport  my  girls  to  London,  where,  he  considers, 
they  may  pretend  to  the  highest  matches,  and  prom 
ises  introductions  worthy  of  them.  And,  O  Madam, 
playing  at  faro  in  the  cardroom,  I  won  a  milleleva  — 
no  less  !  —  Fifty  guineas  !  —  Lord  !  was  ever  anyone 
so  happy!" 

Tears  of  sensibility  stood  in  George  Anne's  eyes. 
She  was  one  who  shared  to  the  full  the  griefs  or  tri 
umphs  of  her  friends.  She  wrung  Mrs  G.'s  hand  and 
embraced  the  fair  conquerors,  scorning  to  mention  the 
rent  in  Maria's  muslin  gown,  and  the  stain  of  wine  on 
Elizabeth's  satin.  It  was  a  generous  heart,  and  had 
earned  more  gratitude  than  she  afterwards  received 
from  two,  at  least,  of  the  ladies. 

'T  was  amazing  to  Mrs  Gunning  and  Maria  now 
that  ever  they  had  contemplated  the  stage  —  so  very 
far  below  their  pretensions ;  and  it  took  but  a  week  to 
open  the  former  lady's  eyes  to  the  little  cracks  in 
George  Anne's  reputation.  She  saw  plainly  that  such 
a  friendship  could  be  no  aid  to  their  soaring  aspira 
tions;  and  indeed  her  ambition  had  now  spread  its 
wings  to  some  purpose.  The  Earl  of  Harrington  hav 
ing  advanced  the  first  installment  of  her  pension,  she 
immediately  moved  their  lodging  to  the  genteeler 
Mount  Street,  and  Britain  Street  was  forgot,  along 


134  "THE  LADIES!" 

with  George  Anne.  Sure  a  mother  must  be  prudent ! 
Elizabeth  only  forsook  not  her  friend,  going  to  wait 
upon  her  and  carrying  with  her  many  of  the  posies  left 
in  daily  homage  to  her  sister  and  herself.  She  had 
little  in  her  power,  for  money  was  still  none  too 
plenty;  but  kindness  and  gratitude  smell  sweeter 
even  than  roses,  and  these  she  carried  in  handfuls 
straight  from  a  grateful  heart  to  George  Anne. 

It  smoothed  not  her  own  path  in  Mount  Street, 
for  Mrs  Gunning's  pride  grew  with  what  fed  it,  and 
though  admiration  was  plenty,  offers  were  few.  It 
might  be  that  the  enmity  of  the  Dublin  ladies  stood 
in  their  way,  for  certain  it  is  that  Mrs  G.  was  never  a 
favourite.  Where  she  judged  well  to  flatter,  she  flat 
tered  too  openly ;  where  she  disliked  and  saw  no  gain, 
she  insulted ;  and  many  gentlemen  would  have  retired 
from  her  acquaintance,  but  for  Maria's  frolicsome 
gaiety  and  the  sweetness  of  Elizabeth.  It  gained 
ground  about  the  city  that  there  was  much  scheming 
in  Mount  Street  with  a  view  to  rich  husbands,  and  it 
smirched  the  girls  as  well  as  their  mama,  and  put 
thorns  in  their  way.  It  made  the  men  bolder  than 
they  should  be,  and  the  women  cold. 

Maria  was  the  hardier  and  took  it  as  a  necessity  of 
their  situation ;  but  the  milder  Elizabeth  wept  often 
on  George  Anne's  kind  bosom  over  the  insults  (as  she 
took  it)  which  Mrs  Gunning  received  with  rapture, 
as  hopeful  signs  of  love.  And,  whatever  the  actress's 
own  case  might  be,  't  is  certain  she  showed  more 
delicacy  in  dealing  with  the  girl  than  did  her  lady 
mother. 


THE  GOLDEN  VANITY  135 

Nor  had  she  much  comfort  from  Mr  Harry's  let 
ters.  His  father  remained  adamant ;  and  though  he 
writ,  't  was  more  carelessly,  and  a  rumour  reached 
Dublin  that  coupled  his  name  with  the  great  fortune 
Miss  Hooker,  and  was  generally  took  for  truth.  Mrs 
Gunning  greeted  it  with  pleasure,  regarding  Mr 
Harry  as  a  gone-by  and  much  below  her  hopes ;  but 
though  Elizabeth's  heart  was  not  wounded,  her  pride 
was  pierced  to  the  quick.  It  seemed  that  all  the 
world  conspired  to  humiliate  her,  and  she  asked  her 
self  what  was  the  use  of  beauty,  if  it  meant  this  and 
no  more.  She  sighed  and  left  his  last  letter  un 
answered. 

Miss  Maria  too  had  her  troubles.  My  Lord  Err- 
ington  pursued  her  with  ardour,  and  his  handsome 
rakish  face  and  gallant  impudence  drew  the  pretty 
moth  towards  the  heat  and  flame  of  a  dangerous 
candle.  Folly,  no  more,  but  his  lady  took  her  ven 
geance  in  scandals  that  spread  about  the  town,  and  a 
duel  was  fought  that  did  Maria  no  good  and  kept  off 
worthier  pretenders  to  her  hand;  and  indeed  it  was 
not  a  day  too  soon  when  the  family  packed  up  their 
belongings  and  changed  the  air  to  London.  The  girls 
outshone  all  others  —  true  !  but  't  was  thought  more 
in  beauty  than  discretion,  for  Elizabeth  must  needs 
sink  with  her  family.  The  world  draws  not  nice  dis 
tinctions. 

But  to  say  they  were  courted  in  London  is  to  say 
little.  They  broke  triumphant  upon  the  town,  sup 
ported  by  letters  from  his  Excellency,  and  the  town 
received  them  with  frenzy,  as  it  might  the  great 


136  "THE  LADIES!" 

Italian  singer  or  the  new  lions  at  the  Tower,  or  what 
not.  Amongst  the  greatest,  the  Duke  of  Hamilton 
put  himself  at  their  disposal,  urged  thereto  by  a  par 
ticular  letter  from  my  Lord  Harrington  and  his  own 
love  of  beauty.  He  dangled  about  them  daily,  and 
it  must  be  owned  that  from  the  first  moment  of  meet 
ing  Mrs  Gunning  fixed  the  eye  of  cupidity  on  his 
Grace.  For  of  all  the  matches  of  the  Kingdom  James 
Hamilton  was  the  greatest  available.  Duke  of  Bran 
don  in  England,  of  Chatelherault  in  France,  of  Hamil 
ton  in  Scotland,  of  vast  possessions,  of  suitable  age 
and  gallant  presence,  a  princess  need  not  have  dis 
dained  his  hand.  A  great  prince,  indeed,  and  know 
ing  it  possibly  too  well,  't  was  he  to  dazzle  a  girl's  eye 
and  carry  her  heart  by  storm  !  For  hearts  —  it  was 
never  supposed  his  Grace  possessed  one ;  at  least,  he 
wore  it  not  on  his  sleeve,  but  was  ever  cold  and 
haughty,  though  it  was  well  known  he  liked  a  pretty 
woman  as  well  as  any  —  short  of  the  wedding  ring. 
He  hung  about  the  new  beauties  as  a  gentleman  will, 
until  wagers  began  to  be  laid  at  White's  as  to  which 
had  caught  his  favour,  and  where  would  fall  the  hand 
kerchief  of  the  Grand  Bashaw. 

Meanwhile,  his  attentions  made  them  more  than 
ever  the  mode,  and  the  town  gallants  swarmed  about 
them  like  bees,  at  the  Assemblies  where  they  figured, 
attended  by  my  Lord  Duke  in  ribbon  and  star.  As 
the  days  went  by,  however,  the  anxious  mother  ob 
served  that  his  preference  was  for  Elizabeth,  and  that 
he  had  no  thought  to  interfere  with  my  Lord  Coven 
try,  who  could  not  keep  his  eyes  off  Maria,  though  he 


THE  GOLDEN  VANITY  137 

committed  himself  no  further  than  the  Duke.  In 
deed,  stories  were  now  freely  circulated  concerning 
Britain  Street  and  the  poverty  and  shifts  of  the  fam 
ily,  and  wagers  were  laid  that  neither  the  one  noble 
man  nor  the  other  looked  for  more  than  a  few  months' 
amusement  with  the  two  loveliest  girls  in  England. 
Mrs  Gunning  was  openly  called  the  Adventuress,  and 
it  was  a  favourite  sport  with  some  ladies  to  imitate 
her  Irish  accent  and  carnying  ways  with  those  she 
would  please ;  and  doubtless  Maria  angled  a  little  too 
openly  for  her  lord.  They  were,  in  short,  easy  game 
for  the  mockers,  and  Elizabeth  shrunk  daily  more 
into  the  shade.  It  appeared  as  if  it  would  be  the 
Dublin  story  over  again. 

Mr  Harry  came  at  once  to  their  lodging  on  his 
return  from  Yorkshire,  and  to  be  sure,  had  not  a  word 
to  say  of  Miss  Hooker.  He  would  have  saluted 
Elizabeth,  but  she  drew  back  with  a  curtsey,  her  man 
ner  sweet  and  cold  as  an  autumn  dawn  with  a  touch 
of  winter  in  the  air.  He  found  her  changed,  and  no 
wonder,  and  said  as  much  with  some  anger. 

"It  should  not  surprise  you,  Harry,"  says  she 
serenely.  "I  am  now  eighteen,  and  have  seen  the 
world,  as  you  have  also.  Our  betrothal  was  a  child's 
game.  I  like  you  too  well  to  be  your  ruin.  Marry 
Miss  Hooker,  of  whom  I  hear.  'T  is  your  best  way, 
and  obedience  to  parents  a  plain  duty." 

"You  were  not  so  wise  in  Dublin,"  replies  Mr 
Lepel,  casting  a  jealous  eye  on  the  fair  monitress.  If 
her  looks  had  changed  it  was  to  a  more  radiant  sweet 
ness,  and  there  was  that  in  the  way  her  long  silken 


138  "THE  LADIES!" 

lashes  lay  on  her  fair  cheek  that  dwarfed  Miss 
Hooker's  fortune.  He  had  better  have  kept  his  dis 
tance  from  the  tfiren,  he  thought  with  bitterness. 
But  sure  a  little  pleasant  dallying  could  hurt  neither 
Miss  Hooker  nor  his  father  —  a  summer  pastime  and 
no  more ;  and  if  the  tales  flying  about  town  were  but 
the  half  of  them  true,  he  might  hope  for  this,  espe 
cially  with  the  past  pleading  for  him  in  Elizabeth's 
tender  heart.  Sure  there  was  a  softening  in  her 
glance.  He  pushed  his  chair  somewhat  nearer  and 
took  her  hand.  She  withdrew  it,  and  removed  her 
seat  farther  away. 

"Is  my  Elizabeth  angry  with  her  Harry,"  cries  he 
with  a  fine  dramatic  air.  "Does  she  forget  those 
happy  days  when  we  were  all  to  one  another  ?  What 
is  Miss  Hooker  or  Miss  Any -person  to  come  between 
us?  What- 

:<Your  future  wife,  as  I  understand,"  says  Eliza 
beth,  perfectly  calm.  "No,  Mr  Lepel  —  I  know  the 
world  now,  better  than  I  could  wish"  (she  sighed), 
"and  I  desire  not  your  attentions.  I  — " 

But  Mr  Lepel  broke  in,  pale  and  furious. 

"And  is  it  thus  you  speak,  you  heartless  jade? 
Clothes,  jewels,  balls,  't  is  these  you  value.  Is  there 
a  woman  alive  that  will  not  sell  her  soul  for  the  like  ? 

0  God,  why  are  fair  faces  made  to  madden  us  ?     Now 

1  have  seen  you  once  more,  how  can  I  return  to  that 
flat-faced  - 

She  rose,  with  a  wave  of  her  hand  that  dismissed 
him ;  but  he  ranted  on  in  a  towering  passion  of  wrath 
and  grief.  It  had  all  burst  up  anew  in  his  heart, 


THE  GOLDEN  VANITY  139 

in  and  for  a  moment.  He  believed  himself  hardly 
used  indeed. 

"  Could  I  bury  my  father  and  inherit  his  land,  you 
would  not  use  me  thus.  It  is  all  a  cursed  thirst  for 
gold,  and  you  are  for  sale  like  an  Eastern  slave.  Who 
is  the  highest  bidder  ?  But  I  know  well.  What  am 
I  to  compare  with  — " 

"His  Grace  the  Duke  of  Hamilton!"  announces 
Mrs  Abigail,  very  demure  i^i  her  pinners  at  the  door ; 
and  in  walks  his  Grace,  magnificent  in  manners  and 
dress,  and  Mr  Lepel's  fury  stopped  on  a  breath, 
though  he  could  not  regain  countenance  as  readily  as 
Elizabeth.  She  rose  to  meet  the  visitor  - —  a  rose  in 
June ;  and  he  might  take  the  blush  of  anger  which  was 
due  to  Mr  Lepel  for  a  welcome  to  himself. 

What  could  Mr  Harry  do  but  draw  back,  stam 
mering  and  looking  foolish  under  the  cold  glance 
Duke  Hamilton  bestowed  on  him.  Prudence  coun 
selled,  "Withdraw.  What  do  you  here?"  Angry 
Love  retorted, "Here  I  stay.  What!  Shall  I  leave 
the  field  to  a  rival  ?  "  And  so,  flung  himself  in  a  chair 
glaring  defiance,  Elizabeth  palpitating  between  the 
two.  5T  was  not  surprising  that  she  drew  nearer  to 
the  Duke,  as  if  for  protection ;  that  there  was  an  im 
ploring  softness  in  her  face  as  she  looked  up  to  him ; 
that  she  saw  him  greater,  handsomer,  stronger  than 
ever,  beside  this  idle  and  futile  young  man  who  had 
reviled  her.  The  carelessness  of  his  glance  at  Mr 
Lepel  seemed  to  fling  his  pretensions  in  the  mud  — 
his  haughty  coolness  to  degrade  the  young  man ;  and 
to  such  thoughts  women  are  responsive.  If  her 


140  "THE  LADIES!" 

heart  was  touched  before,  the  dart  went  deeper  now. 
She  held  her  head  higher,  deerlike,  and  wasted  no 
words  on  the  unwelcome  guest. 

The  two  gentlemen,  seeing  neither  could  outstay 
the  other,  departed  presently  together,  Mr  Lepel 
saying  with  assumed  lightness  as  he  bowed,  hat  in 
hand,  at  the  door:  "We  had  not  the  pleasure  to  see 
Madame  la  mere,  your  Grace,  and  no  doubt  but  she 
is  slipped  away  on  some  hunting  errand.  I  wonder 
what  new  fox  is  broke  cover.  Half  the  world  bets 
on  my  Lord  Coventry  still !" 

The  Duke  returned  not  his  salute,  and  Lepel  could 
not  tell  whether  or  no  his  arrow  had  gone  home 
through  the  armour  of  chilly  pride  and  silence.  He 
himself  strode  angry  and  ashamed  down  the  street. 

That  same  evening  a  Council  of  Three  was  held  in 
the  lodging,  Mrs.  Gunning  with  her  mask  of  smiles 
laid  by,  Maria  fretful,  Elizabeth  grave  and  retired 
in  her  own  thoughts.  The  ladies  had  but  the  one 
bedroom,  with  a  little  closet  for  the  youngest  adjoin 
ing. 

"Girls,"  says  Mrs  Gunning,  "'Tis  time  I  spoke 
plain.  This  six  weeks  in  town  hath  reduced  my  purse 
till  I  am  frighted  to  look  in  it ;  and  what  have  we  to 
show?  Young  women  with  not  half  your  looks  are 
married  and  settled  since  we  came  hither.  We  have 
had  a  vast  deal  of  froth  and  flutter,  but  nothing  solid. 
Were  it  possible  to  live  on  sweetmeats  and  dress  in 
posies,  we  have  a  fine  prospect,  but  not  else.  I  see 
nought  before  us  but  Britain  Street  —  or  worse." 


THE  GOLDEN  VANITY  141 

Maria  shrugged  her  white  shoulders. 

"What  more  can  we  do,  mama?  Sir  James 
Ramsden  has  offered  marriage,  and  Captain  Golightly ; 
and  Mr  Lennox  has  asked  Elizabeth,  and  Mr 
Lepel- 

"What  signifies  all  that?"  cries  Mrs  Gunning. 
"Don't  let  them  slip.  They  '11  serve  for  the  future 
perhaps,  if  all  fails.  Elizabeth,  I  command  you  on 
your  duty  that  you  please  Mr  Lepel,  though  not  more 
than  sufficient  to  content  him.  If  we  can't  better 
him  —  But,  Maria,  what  said  my  Lord  Coventry  to 
you  at  Lady  Lowther's  ball?  I  saw  him  very 
earnest." 

"Nothing  that  mightn't  be  in  the  news-prints, 
mama.  His  breed  of  black  shorthorns  filled  his 
thought  and  tongue.  I  protest  I  loathed  the  man's 
folly.  'T  is  an  insipid  creature  when  all 's  said." 

"No  man  with  a  coronet  is  insipid.  He  is  grave 
and  reserved,  and  I  would  he  had  been  Elizabeth's 
admirer  rather  than  yours,  for  they  could  have  sat 
silent  in  a  corner  together.  But  what  of  the  Duke, 
child  ?  My  hopes  are  sadly  sunk." 

Elizabeth  flamed  in  a  blush,  less  beautiful  than 
painful.  A  sore  heart  was  behind  it.  She  replied 
not.  Mrs  Gunning  frowned. 

"Well,  girls,  you  're  easy  enough,  but  so  am  not  I. 
Now  therefore  listen  while  I  speak  my  mind." 

'T  is  needless  to  be  particular  in  recording  the 
lady's  speech,  which  was  much  to  the  point  in  dealing 
with  their  needs  and  stratagems.  She  spoke  for 
many  minutes  and  at  the  end  tears  of  shame  and 


142  "THE  LADIES!" 

anger  were  in  Maria's  lovely  eyes.  If  Elizabeth 
wept,  't  was  behind  a  sheltering  hand. 

"What  signifies  grumbling?"  finishes  Mrs  Gun 
ning.  "  'T  is  as  plain  as  the  nose  on  your  face.  Eliza 
beth's  is  the  best  chance,  and  if  she  makes  her  match, 
my  Lord  Coventry  will  kiss  your  slipper,  Maria. 
The  Duchess's  sister  can  marry  where  she  will." 

'T  was  vain  to  interrupt.  Mrs  Gunning  sailed  on, 
maternal,  imperative,  and  took  no  heed.  It  would 
be  impertinence  to  intrude  on  the  talk  that  followed, 
and  the  plan  laid  for  the  entrapping  of  his  Grace,  of 
whom  it  may  be  said  that  he  could  protect  himself 
against  even  the  assaults  of  beauty  better  than  Mrs 
Gunning  supposed.  But  Elizabeth,  borne  down  by 
two  to  her  one,  fought  a  losing  game. 

"I  hate  the  man,"  she  cried  with  spirit,  and  knew 
'twas  false  as  she  said  it.  "I'd  sooner  sweep  a 
crossing  — " 

Mrs  Gunning  smiled  contemptuous. 

"Not  you!  You  came  pretty  near  it  in  Britain 
Street,  and  't  is  known  how  you  relished  it.  Beggars, 
my  dear,  can't  be  choosers.  The  Duchess  of  Hamil 
ton  may  have  as  much  delicacy  as  she  pleases.  Miss 
Elizabeth  Gunning  can't  afford  it.  There  's  no  more 
to  be  said." 

Yet  Elizabeth  said  it  furiously,  and  in  vain. 

A  subdued  light  of  wax  candles  —  the  most  flatter 
ing  light  in  the  world  —  made  the  parlour  enchant 
ment  when  his  Grace  sauntered  in  one  evening,  later. 
Posies  were  in  the  bowpots,  and  a  delicate  scent  of 


THE  GOLDEN  VANITY  143 

violets  in  the  air.  On  a  table  by  the  window  lay  a 
magnificent  chicken-skin  fan  sent  by  my  Lord  Coven 
try  for  Maria's  birthday :  it  was  covered  with  rosy 
figures  of  Cupids  swinging  garlands  in  blue  air,  the 
mother-of-pearl  sticks  latticed  with  gold.  It  lay 
beside  a  lace  handkerchief,  as  if  a  fair  hand  had  flung 
it  careless  down.  A  decanter  of  purple  Burgundy, 
with  two  glasses,  was  hard  by,  and  a  small  painting 
of  the  lovely  sisters  from  the  hand  of  Neroni,  who  had 
asked  the  favour  to  depict  them  as  wood-nymphs. 
They  advanced,  smiling  and  bearing  a  garland  be 
tween  them  down  a  forest  glade,  while  two  Cupids 
concealed  behind  a  tree  aimed  a  dart  at  each  fair 
breast. 

The  Duke  contemplated  this  work  of  art,  smiling 
at  his  own  thoughts,  and  not  pleasantly.  Presently 
the  door  opened  and  Mrs  Gunning  and  Maria  en 
tered,  in  hats  and  capes,  followed  by  Elizabeth,  dead 
pale  and  in  a  negligee  with  blue  ribbons,  her  hair  fall 
ing  in  long  tresses  to  the  knee,  confined  only  with  a 
fillet  of  ribbon.  She  looked  not  even  her  eighteen 
years  in  this  dress,  and  had  a  most  touching  beauty. 
His  Grace  kissed  Mrs  Gunning's  hand,  yet  with  the 
half-contemptuous  air  of  the  great  man.  Some 
might  resent  such  a  kiss  as  an  insult,  but  the  lady's 
armour  was  defensive  as  well  as  offensive.  Says  she, 
curtseying :  — 

"I  beg  a  thousand  pardons,  your  Grace,  but  we  are 
disturbed  with  an  unexpected  call.  'T  is  what  we 
never  imagined,  but  can't  refuse.  Good  Mrs  Acton, 
a  friend  of  our  Dublin  days,  is  took  ill  and  hath  sent 


144  " THE  LADIES!" 

for  us  to  Harbour  Street.  She  is  unattended  in  Lon 
don  ;  I  know  your  Grace's  sensibility  will  excuse  us." 

"Why,  Madam,  friendship  is  so  rare  a  virtue  that 
't  is  worth  proclaiming  at  the  Exchange.  I  will  give 
myself  the  pleasure  to  wait  on  you  another  evening." 

His  hat  was  beneath  his  arm ;  he  picked  up  his 
clouded  cane. 

"I  thank  your  Grace."  Mrs  Gunning's  voice  was 
stately.  It  changed  as  she  turned  to  Elizabeth. 
"And  now,  my  flower,  my  dove,  repose  yourself  on 
the  couch,  and  Mrs  Abigail  will  bring  you  the  laven 
der  drops,  and  let  me  find  my  treasure  well  and  smil 
ing  on  my  return." 

"What?  Does  not  Miss  Elizabeth  accompany 
her  mama?"  The  tone  was  alert. 

"By  no  means,  your  Grace.  She  has  ailed  all  day 
with  her  head,  and  is  not  fit  for  a  sick  chamber. 
Farewell,  child.  I  wait  your  Grace." 

He  took  Mrs  Gunning's  hand  to  conduct  her  to  the 
coach ;  't  was  as  pretty  a  comedy  as  ever  George  Anne 
Bellamy  played.  He  laughed  inwardly  leading  her 
to  the  door,  and  on  the  stairs  discoursed  charmingly 
on  the  last  masquerade  at  Vauxhall.  Without  the 
hall  door  he  paused. 

"Is  Miss  Elizabeth  Gunning  too  ailing,  Madam,  to 
receive  a  friend  for  a  few  moments  ?  Permit  me  to 
assist  you. " 

And  before  the  lady  could  reply,  he  bundled  the 
two  into  the  coach,  and  was  halfway  up  the  steps  ere 
Mrs  Gunning  could  cry :  "  I  know  not,  your  Grace. 
A  moment  perhaps  — " 


THE  GOLDEN  VANITY  145 

He  bowed  from  the  door. 

"Be  easy,  Madam.  I  will  myself  administer  the 
lavender  drops  if  needful." 

It  was  impossible  for  the  Duke  to  hasten  himself, 
for  this  he  had  never  done  within  the  memory  of  man ; 
but 't  was  scarce  a  minute  since  he  had  left  the  room 
when  he  reentered,  half  fearing  to  find  his  pretty  bird 
flown.  Not  so,  however.  She  leaned  against  the 
shutter,  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  evening  sky.  It  seemed 
she  had  forgot  his  Grace,  for  her  expression  was  sor 
rowful  and  quiet,  unlike  the  female  trifling  he  ex 
pected,  and  he  heard  a  faint  sigh.  She  turned, 
startled. 

"Forgive  me,  my  Lord  Duke.  I  think  I  can't  stay. 
My  head  - 

She  would  have  glided  to  the  door.  'T  was  pro 
vocative,  however  meant,  and  he  put  himself  in  her 
way.  She  tried  the  other  side  of  the  table.  He 
blocked  that  also,  and  was  before  her  again.  Finally 
she  ceased  the  attempt  and  stood  with  eyes  cast  down. 

"  Child,  don't  hasten.  Give  me  a  few  minutes.  I 
see  you  alone  for  the  first  time  and  never  so  lovely  as 
now.  Is  it  your  long  hair,  or  what  is  it  ?  Sure  the 
angels  have  locks  like  this." 

He  lifted  a  heavy  tress  as  if  marvelling.  She 
snatched  it  from  him  like  an  aggrieved  queen ;  then, 
seeming  to  recollect  herself,  stood  silent  again.  'T  was 
but  a  schoolgirl,  with  trembling  lips  and  veiling  hair. 
He  took  her  hand  like  a  man  accustomed  to  be  obeyed, 
as  indeed  he  was. 

"  Child,  your  mama  hath  left  you  in  my  care,  and 


146  "THE  LADIES!" 

you  can't  desire  I  should  relinquish  the  pleasure. 
Such  an  opportunity  no  gentleman  could  resist.  Be 
seated,  Madam,  and  let  us  discourse." 

'T  was  all  on  one  side,  for  she  had  not  opened  her 
lips.  But  she  obeyed  him,  and  sat  in  the  chair  he 
handed  her  to,  as  passive  as  a  marble  lady.  He 
seemed  at  a  loss  to  continue,  and  stood  looking  at  her 
where  she  drooped,  then  took  a  chair  beside  her. 

"You  are  pleased  to  be  less  cordial  than  I  have 
known  you,  Madam.  Is  it  whim  or  anger  ?  I  like  a 
woman's  pretty  coquetries  as  well  as  any  man,  but 
this  silence  ^ — " 

It  still  continued.  She  was  snow  and  marble.  Not 
a  word.  Only  the  dark  lashes  like  fans  on  her  cheek. 
Not  a  gleam  rewarded  him. 

"A  sullen  beauty !"  says  his  Grace  languidly,  "but 
yet  a  beauty  beyond  all  others.  So  here  we  sit!" 
He  drew  out  his  jewelled  timepiece. 

"I  give  you  a  minute,  Madam  —  nay,  two.  And 
if  by  then  you  have  not  spoke,  I  will  try  if  the 
warmth  of  a  kiss  on  those  sweet  lips  won't  thaw  the 
ice.  I  swear  it!" 

He  laid  the  sparkling  toy  at  her  elbow  on  the  table, 
and  stared  in  her  face.  'T  is  certain  his  Grace  had 
dined.  He  was  not  wont  to  treat  any  woman  thus 
unless  where  it  was  asked  for.  A  minute  went  by  — 
the  tick  was  audible,  but  she  moved  not.  And  now 
a  slow  hot  tear  scorched  its  way  down  her  cheek. 
If  this  followed  mama's  instruction,  it  bettered  it. 
The  time  was  scarce  out  when  he  springs  up  and  cries 
with  triumph :  — 


THE  GOLDEN  VANITY  147 

"I  was  not  mistook.  Your  silence  asks  a  kiss, 
child,  and  James  Hamilton  was  never  the  man  to 
refuse  a  woman's  challenge.  Give  me  your  lips,  and 
more." 

His  swashbuckling  Border  ancestors  were  stirring 
in  his  veins,  and  for  a  moment  his  face  coarsened  and 
his  eyes  were  gross.  He  caught  her  by  the  two  arms 
and  bent  his  mouth  upon  hers. 

In  a  flash  the  fair  statue  was  living  and  dangerous. 
He  was  a  strong  man,  she  a  wisp  of  a  girl;  but  she 
flung  him  off  and  stood  glaring  at  him. 

"How  dare  you?"  she  panted,  and  could  no  more. 
The  eyes  were  unveiled  at  last  and  rained  fire  on  him. 
Never  had  any  person  seen  her  look  thus ;  she  faced 
him  gallantly.  He  applauded  as  if  it  had  been  the 
WofEngton  or  any  other  fair  game. 

6  'T  is  prettily  done  —  but  I  see  your  drift,  Madam. 
If  a  young  lady  is  left  by  her  friends  and  her  own  de 
sire  to  sit  alone  with  one  of  the  best-known  men  in 
town,  she  takes  the  consequences.  Yet  I  would  not 
have  missed  Lucretia  —  she  lacked  only  the  dagger  in 
her  hand.  But  the  comedy  may  end.  Give  me  your 
lips,  child,  and  coquet  no  more." 

"Sir  —  if  you  are  a  gentleman  — " 

"Madam,  I  am  a  lover." 

"Oh,  'tis  too  much  —  too  much!"  she  cries.  "I 
have  undertook  what  was  beyond  me,  and  I  can't  — 
I  can't  carry  it  through.  I  would  if  I  could  —  I 
cannot!" 

The  strange  words,  the  despair  in  her  face  was  no 
stage-play.  The  Duke  knew  sincerity  when  it  cried 


148  "THE  LADIES!" 

aloud.  Still  grasping  her  hands,  he  stood  at  arm's 
length,  staring  in  her  face. 

"You  cannot,  Madam?  What  mean  you?  Are 
you  in  earnest?" 

Not  withdrawing  her  hands,  fast  held  and  quiver 
ing,  she  kept  silence.  He  could  feel  the  pulses  flutter 
in  her  wrists,  and  the  fumes  of  wine  cleared  slowly  out 
of  his  brain  and  carried  the  brutality  with  them. 

"  Have  the  condescension  to  explain  yourself.  You 
are  safe  in  my  company  now.  Possibly  I  was  mis 
took,  but  I  supposed  you  not  unwilling  for  our  tete- 
a-tete.  Accept  my  apologies  if  this  is  not  the  case. 
I  thrust  no  attentions  on  women  who  dislike  them." 

"Sir, I  will  explain,  and  go, and  never  see  your  face 
again.  I  die  of  shame." 

He  could  still  feel  the  pitiful  flutter  in  her  wrists. 
He  relaxed  his  grip  and  handed  her  to  her  chair,  —  a 
gentleman  again,  —  James,  Duke  of  Hamilton  and 
Brandon.  "I  see  myself  gravely  in  error,  Madam. 
I  await  your  words." 

She  would  not  sit,  nor  he.  They  stood  apart  now, 
and  he  could  scarce  hear  the  silver  tremble  of  her 
voice. 

"Sir,  we  are  poor.  You  know  this.  And  last 
night  my  mother  did  ask  me  whether  I  supposed  your 
Grace  had  any  feeling  for  me  beyond  careless  good 
will.  I  knew  not.  What  could  I  say?  And  she 
then  revealed  to  me  —  oh,  how  reveal  it  now  !  —  that 
our  little  means  is  all  but  spent,  and  that  gone,  we 
must  retire  into  poverty  and  misery  again.  Also  that 
there  are  debts,  and  prison  for  debtors.  Also  that 


THE  GOLDEN  VANITY  149 

any  match  for  my  sister  is  impossible  to  hope  for  - 
No  —  how  can  I  tell  it !     And  she  did  say  that  if  we 
could  hope  —  could  but  know  that  — " 

Her  voice  died  on  her  lips.  She  hung  her  head  in 
agony.  He  took  her  up. 

"The  task  is  too  hard  for  you.  Let  me  continue. 
Your  mama  said  that,  if  she  and  your  sister  with 
drew  and  left  you  with  me,  if  you  put  forth  your 
charms  (and  God  knows  there  were  never  such!), 
't  was  possible  you  might  set  the  sweetest  trap  for  the 
rich  man,  and  with  his  aid  clamber  out  of  the  mud  and 
sit  secure  beside  him.  Confirm  me  if  I  don't  err. 
Confess!" 

"I  confess."     The  words  scarce  broke  the  silence. 

"And  love  was  not  in  the  bargain,"  the  cruel  voice 
persisted.  "Mama  did  not  enquire  whether  James 
Hamilton  was  distasteful  to  you  or  the  reverse.  He 
was  a  moneybag  —  no  man.  Confess  again." 

"I  confess.  Sir,  we  have  used  you  very  ill.  I  ask 
your  pardon.  I  was  a  fair  mark  for  insult."  Her 
head  dropped  lower.  She  could  not  otherwise  hide 
her  face,  but  shame  overflowed  it  in  waves  of  crimson. 

"To  be  frank,  Madam,  I  have  never  found  your 
mother  congenial  company.  'T  was  not  for  her  I 
sought  this  house.  Tell  me,  was  this  her  plot  only  ? 
Was  it  acceptable  to  you  ?" 

"At  least,  I  followed  it.  She  is  my  mother.  I  am 
one  flesh  and  blood  with  her.  If  she  is  a  plotter,  so 
too  am  I.  I  bid  your  Grace  farewell,  and  pray  for  so 
much  pity  as  that  you  will  never  come  this  way  again, 
nor  see  me,  lest  I  die  at  your  feet." 


150  "THE  LADIES!" 

"Madam,  do  I  owe  you  no  apology  ?" 

"I  think  none,  your  Grace.  You  acted  as  the 
woman  you  took  me  for  might,  I  suppose,  expect. 
Let  me  go." 

A  singular  thing  happened  here.  The  Duke,  the 
haughtiest  and  coldest  of  men,  bent  his  knee  and 
carried  her  hand  to  his  lips.  So  on  Birthnights  he 
kissed  the  late  Queen's  hand,  she  standing  before  the 
Throne.  Then  stood  very  grave.  "Madam,  I  en 
treat  your  pardon.  I  have  shown  you  a  side  of  a 
man's  character  very  unfitting  for  your  eyes  and  you 
but  the  child  you  are.  Forgive  me,  and  ere  we  part 
for  ever,  answer  me  one  question,  in  token  of  your 
pardon.  Had  I  been  but  James  Hamilton,  the  lowest 
of  my  clan  —  could  you  have  honoured  me  with  any 
regard?" 

She  stammered,  trembling  before  this  melancholy 
gentleness. 

"I  know  not." 

He  persisted,  gentle  but  firm : 

"  We  have  perhaps  something  to  pardon  each  other. 
I  ask  again  —  would  this  have  been  possible  ?" 

Constrained,  she  sought  for  breath.  Because  a 
cold  handsome  face  softens,  because  distrust  is 
melted,  shall  a  woman  let  her  heart  fly  like  a  bird  to  a 
man's  bosom  ? 

"Sir,  you  ask  more  than  I  can  answer." 

Still  the  eyes  insisted,  and  now  the  strong  hand  held 
hers. 

"Sir  —  I  think  —  I  believe  —  it  had  not  been  im 
possible." 


THE  GOLDEN  VANITY  151 

"  What  —  not  Jarnes  Hamilton  —  no  more  ?  — 
with  a  shieling  on  the  moors,  and  the  heather-cock 
for  food,  and  a  Hamilton  plaid  to  wrap  his  heart's 
darling,  and  a  fire  of  peats  to  sit  by,  and  this  hand 
empty  but  for  love  and  his  claymore  ?  —  Would  the 
beauty  of  the  world  have  come  to  his  breast  ?" 

His  voice  was  a  strong  music  —  a  river  in  spate. 
His  eyes  caught  hers  and  held  them. 

c  'T  is  not  impossible.  But  oh,  how  should  I  prove 
it  —  prove  it  ?  There  's  not  a  word  I  say  but  rings 
false  now.  Leave  me  —  leave  me.  I  have  said  too 
much." 

:cYou  can't  prove  it?  But  you  can,  and  if  you 
prove  it,  I  will  distrust  God's  mercy  before  I  will  dis 
trust  my  girl.  All  you  have  told  me  was  known  to  me 
—  known  to  all  the  town.  It  rings  through  the 
streets  that  the  fair  Gunnings  and  their  mother  are 
schemers ;  that  they  love  none  and  seek  only  the  best 
price  for  their  charms.  Marry  me  now,  this  hour, 
Elizabeth,  and  face  the  world  that  will  call  you 
plotter  and  adventuress.  For  they  will  so  !  There  's 
no  club  in  town  but  will  ring  with  the  story  of  how  the 
beauty  was  cunningly  left  to  a  half-drunk  man's  ad 
vances.  That 's  how  Horry  Walpole  and  all  the  old 
women  of  both  sexes  will  have  it !  All  this  will  be 
known  through  your  mother's  folly  and  your  Abigail's 
chatter,  and  they  will  tell  how  you  trapped  me,  how 
I  would  have  escaped  and  could  not  for  the  snares 
about  my  feet.  Marry  me  and  face  this,  if  you  will, 
and  I  will  believe  you  love  me,  for  you  will  stand  a 
disgraced  woman  for  all  time.  Marry  me  not,  and  I 


152  "THE  LADIES!" 

will  make  your  way  easy  with  gold,  and  your  mother 
shall  tell  her  own  tale,  and  not  a  smirch  on  your  name, 
and  fear  not  but  another  rich  man  will  give  you  all  I 
could,  and  not  a  spot  on  it.  Choose  now  once  and  for 
all.  I  have  seen  and  I  know  how  my  coronet  will 
sting  you  with  shame  —  with  shame  set  in  it." 

He  did  not  embrace  her.  'T  was  the  strangest 
wooing.  The  clock  pointed  to  eleven.  The  house 
was  dead  silent.  Her  eyes  widened  with  pain  and 
fear.  She  looked  piteously  at  him. 

"They  will  say  you  caught  me  drunk,  whom  you 
could  not  catch  sober.  They  will  say  you  forced  the 
marriage,  lest  I  escape.  There  is  nothing  they  will 
not  say  but  the  truth  —  that  my  sweetheart  is  the 
sweetest,  the  purest,  the  proudest  woman  alive.  Your 
delicacy  will  be  trod  in  the  mud,  Madam.  Will  you 
take  your  man  at  that  ?  Will  you  crawl  through  the 
dirt  to  his  heart  ?  " 

His  fire  kindled  hers.     Her  eyes  glittered. 

"And  if  they  believed  me  worthless  —  that  is  not 
what  I  ask.  What  would  your  Grace  think  ?  " 

He  smiled  with  peculiar  sweetness. 

"Child,  you  know.     Look  at  me." 

And  still  she  trembled. 

"Beloved,  adored  ! " he  cried.  "Think  you  I  knew 
not  't  was  death  to  you  to  tell  the  truth  ?  Shall  a 
man  find  a  pearl  in  the  dirt  and  not  set  it  over  his 
heart.  I  have  loved  you  since  first  I  saw  your  fair 
face,  and  now  I  honour  you.  Come  to  me  and  bless 
me ;  and  when  these  fools  cackle  and  gibber,  I  shall 
know  how  to  protect  my  wife." 


THE  GOLDEN  VANITY  153 

His  arms  went  round  her. 

"I  will  do  it,"  she  said. 

The  minutes  passed  in  an  exquisite  joy,  plucked  out 
of  shame  like  a  rose  from  a  torrent.  He  left  her  and 
went  to  the  door,  and  leaning  over  the  balustrade, 
called  down  the  stair :  — 

"Armitage!" 

A  young  man,  handsomely  dressed  and  something 
of  a  fop  after  his  valet-fashion,  sprang  up  the  stair  — 
his  Grace's  gentleman.  His  master,  very  tranquil 
and  haughty,  was  by  the  door  —  the  fair  Miss  Gun 
ning  erect  in  her  chair. 

"Armitage,  proceed  at  once  to  my  house,  and  ac 
quaint  my  chaplain,  Mr  MacDonald,  that  this  lady 
and  I  are  to  be  married  immediately.  Desire  him  to 
come  hither  with  all  that  is  necessary,  and  lose  not  a 
moment." 

And  seeing  Armitage  hesitate  like  a  man  wonder- 
struck,  the  Duke  stamped  his  foot  and  set  him  flying 
down  the  way  he  came,  calling  after  him  :  — 

"Desire  Mrs  Abigail  to  come  up  this  moment." 

They  heard  the  door  shut  violently,  and  Mrs 
Abigail  came  up,  very  demure  and  curtseying  to  the 
ground. 

"Be  seated,  good  woman.  Your  lady  will  excuse 
you.  We  wait  the  Reverend  Mr  MacDonald,  with 
ring  and  licence,  and  you  and  Armitage  shall  serve 
for  witnesses  to  the  marriage.  Now  I  think  of  it,  call 
also  the  woman  of  the  house," 

He  carried  it  masterfully,  and  Elizabeth,  no  more 
than  any  other  woman,  could  be  insensible  to  that 


154  "THE  LADIES!" 

charming  tyranny.  He  stood  behind  her  chair  while 
the  woman  called  for  Mrs  Mann  —  who  came,  mor 
tally  afraid  of  her  company. 

"Shall  Mrs  Abigail  braid  my  hair?  —  it  tumbles 
all  about  me,"  says  Elizabeth,  questioning  her  master 
timidly. 

"'T  is  so  great  a  beauty  I  will  not  have  it  hid,"  he 
cries,  standing  behind  her  chair  where  the  long  locks 
lay  on  the  ground. 

Silence  again,  and  the  time  passing. 

At  last,  a  sound  as  if  Armitage  propelled  somewhat 
before  him  up  the  stair,  and  into  the  room  walks  his 
Grace's  gentleman,  and  before  him  a  stout  personage 
in  bands  and  cassock,  so  breathless  from  haste  as  to 
be  incapable  of  any  speech. 

"Hath  he  the  licence?" 

"He  hath,  your  Grace,  but  he  declares  that  the 
occasion  being  so  great,  and  the  incumbent  of  May- 
fair  Chapel,  Dr  Keith,  being  at  home  and  the  chapel 
open,  for  the  greater  solemnity  't  were  well  to  have 
the  marriage  solemnised  there.  'T  is  but  ten  min 
utes,  and  I  have  brought  the  chariot,  if  it  please  your 
Grace." 

And  now,  puffing  sore,  the  clergyman  put  in  his 
plea,  —  not  for  delay,  the  Duke's  face  forbade  that,  — 
but  that  all  be  done  with  ceremony. 

"If  a  word  more  be  said,  I  send  for  the  Arch 
bishop!"  swears  his  Grace,  flushed  and  handsome. 
"My  chariot 's  at  the  door.  Bundle  in  all  who  can. 
Madam,  allow  me." 

He  drew  the  bride's  hand  to  his,  and  preceded  them 


THE  GOLDEN  VANITY  155 

down  the  stair,  holding  it  high  as  in  a  minuet.  The 
women  followed  without  a  word.  Elizabeth  went  in 
a  dream,  half -enchantment,  half -nightmare. 

The  chapel  was  dark  and  musty  —  no  time  to  light 
the  lamps ;  but  Mr  Armitage,  the  facile,  the  adroit, 
a  perfect  Mercury  and  old  in  experience,  called  in 
four  linkmen  waiting  by  their  ladies'  empty  chairs  in 
the  street  outside. 

These  grimy  fellows  stood  upon  the  altar  steps, 
two  at  a  side,  lighting  the  book  the  parson  opened, 
his  voice  resounding  through  the  silent  place  with 
startling  loudness.  Behind  the  bridal  pair  huddled 
the  women. 

"Dearly  Beloved,  we  are  met  together — "  and  so 
to  the  close.  But  his  voice  was  muffled  beside  the 
clear  ring  of  James  Hamilton's.  His  "I  will"  fell 
like  a  sword  on  the  air.  He  was  never  a  man  to  show 
his  heart  but  to  the  one  in  whose  hand  it  lay,  and  his 
tone  disdained  all  but  the  woman  who  stood  by  him. 
He  put  his  signet  ring  on  her  finger,  and  they  turned 
from  the  altar  man  and  wife. 

"Give  each  of  these  men  five  guineas,  and  bid  them 
light  her  Grace  to  her  chariot,  Armitage.  Take  you 
the  women  back  to  Mrs  Gunning's  lodging,  where  we 
follow.  I  thank  you,  Mr  Keith,  for  the  best  service 
any  man  ever  did  me.  It  shall  not  go  unrewarded." 

He  handed  her  into  the  chariot  with  the  utmost 
ceremony ;  and  when  the  door  was  closed,  flung  him 
self  on  his  knees  before  her,  clasping  her  waist. 

"My  dear  —  my  girl,  how  shall  I  thank  you? 
Think  you  I  don't  know  what  it  hath  cost  you  — 


156  "THE  LADIES!" 

and  the  proof  you  have  given  me  that  your  heart 
is  mine.  My  wife  —  my  sweetheart !" 

'T  was  hah0  after  twelve  when  Mrs  Gunning  re 
turned  with  Maria,  being  a  prudent  woman,  and  re 
solved  that,  if  the  criminal  did  not  hang  himself,  it 
should  not  be  for  want  of  rope. 

"The  chariot's  at  the  door  and  the  light  still  in  the 
parlour!"  she  whispered ;  "sure,  he  can't  be  there 
still?  Heaven  send  he  be  not  drunk  and  asleep. 
'T  was  mere  folly  to  leave  the  wine  ! " 

Not  a  sound.  They  approached  as  it  were  on  tip 
toe  up  the  stair,  and  softly  opened  the  door. 

My  Lord  Duke,  attended  by  Armitage,  stood  be 
fore  them,  splendid  in  his  dark  red  velvet  laced  with 
silver,  the  blue  ribbon  crossing  his  breast.  He  held 
Elizabeth  by  the  hand,  she  pale  as  ashes  but  per 
fectly  composed. 

Mrs  Gunning  gave  a  fine  dramatic  start,  Maria 
advancing  behind  her,  devoured  with  curiosity. 

"What  —  what  can  this  mean?  Little  did  I  ex 
pect  to  find  your  Grace  here  at  this  hour.  Elizabeth, 
I  fear  you  have  been  vastly  imprudent.  Your  good 
name  — "  She  might  have  said  more  but  the  Duke 
came  forward,  very  magnificent. 

"Madam,  permit  me  to  introduce  a  stranger"  says 
he,  with  emphasis  on  the  word,  "Her  Grace  the 
Duchess  of  Hamilton." 

"Lord !  Then  't  is  to  be !"  cries  Mrs  Gunning,  all 
radiant,  and  mistaking  his  meaning.  "O  my  sweet 
child,  my  Elizabeth  —  how  have  you  took  me  by 
surprise !  When  shall  it  be,  your  Grace  ?" 


THE  GOLDEN  VANITY  157 

"Madam,  it  is  done.  Miss  Gunning  became  my 
bride  in  the  Mayfair  Chapel  —  was  it  twenty  min 
utes  since,  Armitage?" 

"Fifteen,  your  Grace." 

'  'T  was  all  in  order  —  a  clergyman  ?  —  't  was 
legal?"  pants  Mrs  Gunning,  her  hand  to  her  heart. 

"Assuage  your  maternal  fears,  Madam."  His  lip 
was  disdainful  —  he  set  her  a  world  away.  "All  was 
as  you  could  have  wished.  Permit  the  Duchess  and 
myself  to  wish  you  farewell  and  good  night  —  or 
rather  good  morning." 

He  led  Elizabeth  to  the  door,  which  Armitage  held 
open.  It  closed  behind  them,  and  their  steps  were 
heard  descending.  The  Duchess  had  not  said  a  word. 

There  was  silence  until  the  chariot  had  rumbled 
away,  when  Mrs  Gunning  found  her  voice. 

"I  did  not  credit  her  with  such  skill.  She  hath 
played  her  cards  well  indeed.  I  would  give  the  world 
to  know  what  passed." 

"That  we  shall  never  know,"  says  Maria.  "He  's 
not  the  man  to  tell  his  secrets,  nor  she  neither.  Sure, 
they  're  a  pair." 

"  Well,  Heaven  send  you  show  the  like  skill  with  my 
Lord  Coventry.  You  can't  do  better.  Lord,  how 
my  heart  beats  for  joy ! " 

"I  shall  not  need,  Madam,"  says  Miss  Maria 
coolly.  "She  has  ensured  my  match  with  her  own. 
The  Duchess  of  Hamilton's  sister  won't  go  begging 
for  a  husband.  'T  is  now  but  to  choose  my  wedding 
silk.  Come,  let  us  to  bed.  These  late  hours  hurt 
my  bloom.  Let  us  however  drink  a  toast  in  this  wine 


158  "THE  LADIES!" 

to  old  Mother  Corrigan  and  the  Golden  Vanity.  'T  is 
the  least  we  can  do.     Blow  out  the  candles." 

(Elizabeth,  later  Duchess  of  Argyll,  bore  her  honours 
with  dignity  and  became  a  very  great  lady.  Maria, 
Countess  of  Coventry,  died  aged  twenty-seven,  not  un 
touched  by  scandal,  and  a  victim  to  her  own  frivolity. 
Mrs  Gunning  received  a  valuable  appointment  as  House 
keeper  at  one  of  the  royal  palaces.  "  The  Luck  of  the 
Gunnings"  became  a  proverb. 

It  has  been  disputed  which  of  the  two  famous  actresses, 
PegWoffington  or  George  Anne  Bellamy  had  the  honour 
of  setting  the  beauties  forth  in  life.  Mrs.  Bellamy9  s  claim 
has  the  better  evidence,  especially  in  view  of  the  Countess 
of  Coventry's  distinguished  impertinence  to  her  a  few 
years  later.) 


THE  WALPOLE  BEAUTY 


MARIA  WALPOLE 

Countess  qf  Waldegrave 

Duchess  qf  Gloucester 

17(?)-1807 

HORACE  WALPOLE  was  convinced  that  even  the 
Gunnings  envied  the  beauty  of  Maria  Walpole,  his 
niece.  "Yesterday,'*  he  writes,  "t'  other  famous 
Gunning  dined  there.  She  has  made  a  friendship 
with  my  charming  niece,  to  disguise  her  jealousy." 

To  the  surprise  of  all  London,  Maria,  daughter 
of  Sir  Edward  Walpole  and  Maria  Clements,  mar 
ried  the  Earl  of  Waldegrave,  "for  character  and 
credit  the  first  match  in  England."  At  her  hus 
band's  death,  she  refused  the  Duke  of  Portland, 
but  secretly  married  the  Duke  of  Gloucester, 
brother  to  the  King.  Her  admirers  point  out  the 
romance  of  her  fortunes  —  how  she  was  daughter 
of  a  milliner,  granddaughter  of  a  great  Prime  Min 
ister,  widow  of  an  Earl,  wife  of  a  Duke,  sister-in- 
law  to  the  King,  mother  of  the  three  ladies  Walde 
grave,  and,  in  her  second  marriage,  mother  of 
Prince  William  and  the  Princess  Sophia. 

Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  made  seven  portraits  of 
the  lovely  "Walpole  Beauty."  Years  afterward, 
when  he  was  at  work  on  his  famous  painting  of  her 
three  daughters,  Walpole  begged  him  to  pose  them 
"as  the  three  Graces,  adorning  a  bust  of  the  Duch 
ess  as  the  Magna  Mater."  "But,"  adds  the  vet 
eran  of  Strawberry  Hill,  with  what  resignation  he 
can  muster,  "my  ideas  were  not  adopted." 


V 
THE  WALPOLE  BEAUTY 

[From  a  packet  of  letters,  written  in  the  middle  of  the 
eighteenth  century  by  Lady  Fanny  Armine  to  her  cousin, 
Lady  Desmond,  in  Ireland,  I  have  strung  together  one 
of  the  strangest  of  true  stories  —  the  history  of  Maria 
Walpole,  niece  of  the  famous  Horace  Walpole  and  ille 
gitimate  daughter  of  his  brother,  Sir  Edward  Walpole. 
The  letters  are  a  potpourri  of  town  and  family  gossip, 
and  in  gathering  the  references  to  Maria  Walpole  into 
coherence,  I  am  compelled  to  omit  much  that  is  char 
acteristic  and  interesting.] 

May,  1754. 

WHY,  Kitty,  my  dear,  what  signifies  your  re 
proaches?  I  wish  I  may  never  be  more  guilty  than 
I  am  this  day.  I  laid  out  a  part  of  your  money  in  a 
made-up  mantua  and  a  petticoat  of  Rat  de  St.  Maur, 
and  for  the  hat,  't  was  the  exact  copy  of  the  lovely 
Gunning's  —  Maria  Coventry.  And  though  I  won't 
flatter  you,  child,  by  saying  your  bloom  equals  hers 
(for  I  can't  tell  what  hers  may  be  under  the  white 
lead  she  lays  on  so  thick),  yet  I  will  say  that  your 
Irish  eyes  may  ambuscade  to  the  full  as  well  beneath 
it,  though  they  won't  shoot  an  earl  flying,  like  hers, 
because  you  have  captured  your  baronet  already ! 

But  't  is  news  you  would  have  —  news,  says  you, 
of  all  the  gay  doings  of  the  town. 

And  how  is  her  Gunning  Grace  of  Hamilton,  you 


162  "THE  LADIES!" 

ask,  and  do  the  folk  still  climb  on  chairs  at  Court  to 
stare  at  her?  Vastly  in  beauty,  child.  She  was 
in  a  suit  of  fine  blue  satin  at  the  last  Birthnight, 
sprigged  all  over  with  white,  and  the  petticoat  robings 
broidered  in  the  manner  of  a  trimming  wove  in  the 
satin.  A  hoop  of  the  richest  damask,  trimmed  with 
gold  and  silver.  These  cost  fourteen  guineas  a  hoop, 
nay  dear.  Who  shall  say  the  ladies  of  the  present 
age  don't  understand  refinements?  Her  Grace  had 
diamonds  plastered  on  wherever  they  would  stick, 
and  all  the  people  of  quality  run  mad  to  have  a  stare 
at  so  much  beauty,  set  off  with  as  much  glare  as 
Vauxhall  on  a  fete  night,  and  she  as  demure  as  a  cat 
after  chickens. 

But  't  is  always  the  way  with  these  sudden-come- 
ups,  they  never  have  the  easy  carriage  that  comes 
from  breeding,  and  't  is  too  much  to  expect  she  should 
be  a  topping  courtier. 

You  must  know  Horry  Walpole  was  there,  in  gray 
and  silver  brocade,  as  fine  and  finical  a  gentleman  as 
ever,  and  most  genteelly  lean ;  and  says  I  to  him  :  — 

"  What  think  you,  Mr  Walpole,  of  our  two  coquet 
Irish  beauties  ?  Do  they  put  out  all  the  fire  of  our 
English  charmers?" 

So  he  drew  himself  up  and  took  a  pinch  of  rappee 
(can't  you  see  him,  Kitty,  my  girl  ?),  and  says  he :  — 

"Madam,  to  a  lady  that  is  herself  all  beauty  and 
need  envy  none,  I  may  say  we  have  a  beauty  to  be 
produced  shortly  to  the  town  that  will  flutter  all  the 
world,  excepting  only  the  lady  I  have  the  honour  to 
address." 


THE  WALPOLE  BEAUTY  163 

And,  Lord !  .the  bow  he  made  me,  with  his  hat  to 
his  heart ! 

"La,  man,"  says  I,  "who  is  she?  But  sure  I 
know.  'T  is  the  Duchess  of  Queensberry  reduced  a 
good  half  in  size  and  with  a  new  complexion." 

But  Horry  shook  his  ambrosial  curls. 

"No,  Madam,  'pon  honour !  A  little  girl  with  the 
vivacity  of  sixteen  and  brown  eyes,  brown  hair  —  in 
fact,  a  brown  beauty." 

And  then  it  flashed  on  me  and  I  says :  — 

"Good  God!  —  Maria!  But  sure  she  can't  be 
presented.  'T  is  impossible!"  And  could  have  bit 
my  silly  tongue  out  when  't  was  said. 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders  like  a  Frenchman,  — 
't  is  the  last  grace  he  picked  up  in  Paris,  —  and 
turned  from  me  to  the  new  lady  errant,  Miss  Chester, 
who  models  herself  on  the  famous  Miss  Chudleigh. 

But  nothing  could  equal  the  horrid  indecency  of 
Miss  Chudleigh's  habit  at  the  Ranelagh  Masquerade 
some  five  years  back,  when  Mrs  Montagu,  observing 
her,  said :  "Here  is  Iphigenia  for  the  sacrifice,  but  so 
naked  the  high  priest  may  inspect  the  entrails  of 
the  victim  without  more  ado."  And  says  Horry: 
"Surely,  't  is  Andromeda  she  means  herself,  and  not 
Iphigenia!"  I  thought  we  should  have  died  laugh 
ing.  The  Maids  of  Honour  were  then  so  offended 
not  one  of  'em  would  speak  to  her.  They  are  not 
such  prudes  today,  and  Miss  Chester  has  as  much 
countenance  as  she  looks  for.  Alas,  it  takes  a 
wise  woman,  if  not  a  good  one,  to  know  just  where 
certainty  should  stop  and  imagination  take  its  place  ! 


164  "THE  LADIES!" 

But,  Kitty  child,  who  do  you  guess  is  the  new 
beauty  ?  I  give  you  one,  I  give  you  two,  I  give  you 
three !  And  if  't  was  three  hundred,  you  'd  be  never 
the  wiser.  Why,  Maria  Walpole,  you  little  block 
head  !  Maria,  the  daughter  of  Sir  Edward  Walpole , 
Horry's  brother.  What  think  you  of  that?  But 
Sir  Edward  never  was  married,  says  you.  True  for 
you,  Kitty,  but  don't  you  know  the  story?  No, 
to  be  sure.  There  's  no  scandal  in  Ireland,  for  St. 
Patrick  banished  it  along  with  the  snakes  and  their 
poison,  because  the  island  that  has  so  many  mis 
fortunes  would  have  died  of  another. 

Well,  take  your  sampler  like  a  good  little  girl  and 
hearken  to  the  history  of  the  lovely  Maria  that 's  to 
blow  out  the  Gunning  candles.  Let  me  present  to 
your  la'ship  Sir  Edward  Walpole,  brother  to  the 
Baron  of  Strawberry  Hill.  A  flourish  and  a  sliding 
bow,  and  you  know  one  another!  Sir  Edward, 
who  resembles  not  Horry  in  his  love  for  the  twittle- 
twattle  of  the  town,  is  a  passable  performer  on  the 
bass  viol,  and  a  hermit  —  the  Hermit  of  Pall  Mall. 
But  the  rules  of  that  Hermitage  are  not  too  severe, 
child.  'T  is  known  there  were  relaxations.  And 
notably  one. 

The  Hermit  some  years  since  was  lodged  in  Pall 
Mall;  and  in  the  lower  floors  was  lodged  a  dealer 
in  clothes,  with  prentices  to  fetch  and  carry. 

Lord !  says  Kitty,  what 's  this  to  the  purpose  ? 
Attend,  Madam.  The  curtain  rises  ! 

'T  is  an  old  story  :  the  virtuous  prentice —  and  the 
unvirtuous.  There  was  one  of  them  —  Dorothy 


THE  WALPOLE  BEAUTY  165 

Clement,  a  rustic  beauty,  straw  hat  tied  under  the 
roguish  chin,  little  tucked-up  gown  of  flowered  stuff, 
handkerchief  crossed  over  the  bosom,  ruffled  elbows. 
'T  is  so  pretty  a  dress,  that  I  protest  I  marvel  women 
of  quality  don't  use  it !  However,  this  demure 
damsel  looked  up  at  Sir  Edward  under  the  hat,  and 
he  peeped  under  the  brim,  and  when  he  left  the  house 
and  returned  to  his  own,  what  should  happen  but  the 
trembling  beauty  runs  to  him,  one  fine  day,  for  pro 
tection,  swearing  her  family  and  master  have  all  cast 
her  off  because  't  was  noted  the  gentleman  had  an 
eye  for  a  charming  face. 

Well,  child,  't  is  known  hermits  do  not  marry. 
'T  is  too  much  to  ask  of  their  Holinesses.  But  he 
set  a  chair  at  the  foot  of  his  table  for  the  damsel,  and 
bid  her  share  his  pulse  and  crusts ;  and  so  't  was  done, 
and  whether  in  town  or  country,  the  Hermitess  kept 
him  company  till  she  died.  Sure  the  Walpoles  are 
not  too  fastidious  in  their  women,  excepting  only 
Horry  of  Strawberry  Hill,  who  has  all  the  finicals 
of  the  others  rolled  up  in  his  lean  body. 

Well,  Kitty,  there  were  four  children :  a  boy,  — 
nothing  to  the  purpose,  —  and  Laura,  Maria,  and 
Charlotte.  And  the  poor  lasses,  not  having  a  rag 
of  legitimacy  to  cover  'em,  must  needs  fall  back  on 
good  behaviour  and  good  looks.  I  saw  Laura,  a 
pretty  girl,  in  the  garden  at  Englefield  some  years 
since,  when  I  was  airing  in  Lady  Pomfret's  coach; 
and  as  we  looked,  the  little  hoyden  Maria  comes 
running  up  in  muslin  and  blue  ribbons,  all  health  and 
youth  and  blooming  cheeks  and  brown  curls  and  eyes 


166  "THE  LADIES!" 

-a  perfect  Hebe.  And  'tis  she  —  the  milliner's 
brat  —  that 's  to  borrow  the  Car  of  Love  and  set  the 
world  afire.  But  she  can't  be  presented,  Kitty ; 
for  our  high  and  mighty  Royals  frown  on  vice,  and 
not  a  single  creature  with  the  bar  sinister  can  creep 
into  Court,  however  many  may  creep  out.  And 
that's  that! 

And  now  I  end  with  compliments  and  curtseys  to 
your  la'ship,  and  the  glad  tidings  that  one  of  the 
virgin  choir  of  Twickenham,  those  Muses  to  which 
Mr  Horace  Walpole  is  Apollo,  has  writ  an  Ode  so 
full  of  purling  streams  and  warbling  birds,  that 
Apollo  says  he  will  provide  a  sidesaddle  for  Pegasus, 
and  no  male  shall  ever  bestride  him  again. 

September,  1758. 

O  la,  la,  la!  Was  you  ever  at  the  Bath,  child? 
Here  am  I  just  returned,  where  was  great  company, 
and  all  the  wits  and  belles,  and  Miss  Biddy  Green, 
the  great  city  fortune,  run  off  with  Harry  Howe, 
and  her  father  flourishing  his  gouty  stick  in  the  Pump 
Room  and  swearing  a  wicked  aristocracy  should  have 
none  of  his  honest  guineas.  But  he  '11  soften  when 
he  sees  her  presented  at  Court,  with  feathers  stuck 
in  her  poll  and  all  the  city  dames  green  with  spite. 
'T  is  the  way  of  the  world. 

But  to  business.  The  town  is  talking  with  hun 
dred-woman  noise  on  the  marriage  that  Laura,  — 
by  courtesy  called  Walpole,  —  the  Hermit's  eldest 
daughter,  makes  tomorrow.  'T  will  astound  you, 
Lady  Desmond  your  Honour,  as  much  as  it  did  your 


THE  WALPOLE  BEAUTY  167 

humble  servant.  For  Miss  Laura  honours  the 
Church,  no  less,  with  her  illegitimate  hand,  and  no 
less  a  dignitary  than  a  Canon  of  Windsor!  Is  not 
this  to  be  a  receiver  of  stolen  goods?  Does  not  his 
Reverence  compound  a  felony  in  taking  such  a 
bride?  What  say  you?  'T  is  Canon  Keppel, 
brother  to  Lord  Albemarle ;  and  mark  you,  Kitty  — 
the  Honourable  Mrs  Keppel  has  the  right  to  be  pre 
sented  where  Miss  Laura  might  knock  at  the  door 
in  vain  !  We  come  up  in  the  world,  child ;  but  the 
Walpoles  had  always  that  secret. 

'T  will  set  the  other  charming  daughters  dreaming 
of  bride-cake.  All  the  world  talks  of  Maria,  a 
shining  beauty  indeed.  Horry  Walpole  is  enchanted 
at  Miss  Laura's  match  —  sure,  an  illegitimate  Wal 
pole,  if  niece  to  the  Baron  of  Strawberry,  is  worth 
a  dozen  of  your  Cavendishes  and  Somersets !  I 
laughed  like  a  rogue  in  my  sleeve  when  says  Horry 
to  me  at  my  drum  :  — 

"Colonel  Yorke  is  to  be  married  to  one  or  both  of 
the  Miss  Crasteyns,  great  city  fortunes  —  nieces 
to  the  rich  grocer.  They  have  two  hundred  and 
sixty  thousand  pounds  apiece.  Nothing  comes  amiss 
to  the  digestion  of  that  family  —  a  marchioness  or  a 
grocer." 

Says  I,  flirting  my  fan :  — 

"  'T  is  gross  feeding,  sure,  Mr  Walpole.  Now, 
had  it  been  a  royal  illegitimate." 

He  looked  daggers,  and  took  a  pinch  of  snuff  with 
an  ah*.  Never  was  a  man  with  more  family  pride, 
though  he  affects  to  scorn  it. 


168  "THE  LADIES!" 

What  think  you  of  this  latest  news  of  Lady  Cov 
entry  ?  The  people  are  not  yet  weary  of  gazing  upon 
the  Gunnings,  and  stared  somewhat  upon  her  last 
Sunday  was  se'night  in  the  Park.  Would  you  believe 
it,  Kitty,  that  she  complained  to  the  King,  and  His 
Majesty,  not  to  be  outdone  in  wisdom,  offers  a  guard 
for  her  ladyship's  beauty.  On  this  she  ventures  into 
the  Park,  and,  pretending  fright,  desires  the  assist 
ance  of  the  officer,  who  orders  twelve  sergeants  to 
march  abreast  before  her  and  a  sergeant  and  twelve 
men  behind  her ;  and  in  this  pomp  did  the  silly  little 
fool  walk  all  the  evening,  with  more  mob  about  her 
than  ever,  her  blockhead  husband  on  one  side  and 
my  Lord  Pembroke  on  the  other !  I  'm  sure  I  can't 
tell  you  anything  to  better  this,  so  good  night,  dear 
cousin,  with  all  a^ffectionate  esteem. 

April,  1769. 

Great  news,  your  la'ship.  I  am  but  just  returned 
from  a  royal  progress  to  visit  the  Baron  of  Straw 
berry  Hill.  Strawberry  was  in  prodigious  beauty  — 
spiring  flowers,  cascades,  grottoes,  all  displayed  to 
advantage  in  a  sunshine  that  equalled  June.  The 
company,  her  Gunning  Grace  of  Hamilton,  the 
Duchess  of  Richmond,  Lady  Aylesbury,  and  your 
humble  servant. 

Says  Mr  Horace,  leaning  on  his  amber-top  cane 
and  surveying  us,  as  the  three  sat  in  the  shell  on  the 
terrace  and  I  stood  by :  — 

"Strawberry  Hill  is  grown  a  perfect  Paphos.  'T  is 
the  land  of  beauties,  and  if  Paris  himself  stood  where 


THE  WALPOLE  BEAUTY  169 

I  do,  he  could  never  adjudge  the  golden  apple." 

He  writ  the  same  to  George  Montagu  after,  who 
showed  the  letter  about  town :  — 

"There  never  was  so  pretty  a  sight  as  to  see  the 
three  sitting.  A  thousand  years  hence,  when  I  begin 
to  grow  old,  if  that  can  ever  be,  I  shall  talk  of  that 
event  and  tell  the  young  people  how  much  handsomer 
the  women  of  my  time  were  than  they  are  now." 

There  's  a  compliment  like  a  fresh-plucked  rose 
from  the  Lord  of  Strawberry.  It  reads  pretty,  don't 
it,  child  ?  Horry  was  in  vast  wit  —  't  was  like  the 
Northern  Lights  hurtling  about  us  —  made  us  blink ! 
The  Duchess  of  Richmond  pretending  she  could  not 
recall  her  marriage-day,  says  Horry  :  — 

"Record  it  thus,  Madam.  This  day  thousand 
years  I  was  married  !" 

'T  was  not  till  a  week  later  I  discovered  this  to  be 
a  bon  mot  of  Madame  de  Sevigne.  His  jewels  are 
polished  very  fine,  but  't  is  not  always  in  the  Straw 
berry  mine  they  are  dug.  But  to  our  news  —  What 
will  your  Honour  pay  me  for  a  penn'orth  ? 

'T  is  of  our  beauty,  Maria  —  ahem  !  —  Walpole. 
The  pretty  angler  has  caught  her  fish  —  a  big  fish, 
a  gold  fish,  even  a  golden-hearted  fish,  for  't  is  Lord 
Waldegrave  !  A  belted  earl,  a  Knight  of  the  Garter, 
no  less,  for  the  pretty  milliner's  daughter.  You 
don't  believe  it,  Kitty  ?  Yet  you  must,  for  't  is  true, 
and  sure.  If  beauty  can  shed  a  lustre  over  puddled 
blood,  she  has  it.  Lord  Villiers,  chief  of  the  mac 
aronis,  said,  yesterday  was  a  week :  — 

"Of  all  the  beauties  Miss  Walpole  reigns  supreme 


170  "THE  LADIES!" 

—  if  one  could  forget  the  little  accident  of  birth! 
Her  face,  bloom,  eyes,  teeth,  hair,  and  person  are  all 
perfection's  self,  and  Nature  broke  the  mould  when 
she  made  this  paragon,  for  I  know  none  like  her." 

'T  is  true,  but 't  is  so  awkward  with  these  folk  that 
can't  be  presented  nor  can't  meet  this  one  nor  that. 
Still,  I  have  had  her  much  to  my  routs  and  drums, 
where  't  is  such  an  olla  podrida  that  it  matters  not 
who  comes.  But  Lady  Waldegrave  may  go  where 
she  will ;  and  certainly  the  bridegroom  has  nothing 
to  object  on  the  score  of  birth,  for  he  comes  from 
James  the  Second  by  the  left  hand,  and  for  aught  I 
know  a  left-hand  milliner  is  as  good  these  Republican 
days.  Anyhow,  't  is  so,  and  Horry,  who  would  have 
all  think  him  above  such  thoughts,  is  most  demurely 
conceited  that  a  Walpole  —  ahem  !  —  should  grace 
the  British  peerage.  Remains  now  only  Charlotte, 
and  I  dare  swear  she  will  carry  her  charms  to  no  worse 
market  than  Maria,  though  not  so  great  a  Venus. 

I  went  yesterday  evening  to  the  Bluestocking  Circle 
at  Mrs  Montagu's  fine  house  in  Hill  Street.  I  am 
not  become  learned,  Kitty,  but  't  was  to  hear  the 
lionesses  roar,  and  because  I  knew  the  Lord  of  Straw 
berry  would  be  there  and  was  wishful  to  hear  his 
exultations.  Lord  preserve  us,  child,  what  a  fright 
ening  place !  We  were  ushered  into  the  Chinese 
Room,  lined  with  painted  Pekin  paper,  and  noble 
Chinese  vases,  and  there  were  all  the  lions,  male  and 
female,  in  a  circle  —  the  Circle  of  the  Universe.  All 
the  great  ladies  of  the  Bluestocking  Court  were  there : 
the  vastly  learned  Mrs  Carter,  Mrs  Delany  over 


THE  WALPOLE  BEAUTY  171 

from  Ireland,  the  Swan  of  Lichfield  Miss  Anna 
Seward,  Mrs  Chapone,  and  other  lionesses  and  cub- 
esses.  My  dear,  they  sat  in  a  half -moon,  and  behind 
them  another  half-moon  of  grave  ecclesiastics  and 
savants,  and  Horry  at  the  head  of  them,  in  brown  and 
gold  brocade.  'T  was  not  sprightly,  Kitty.  'T  is 
true  these  women  are  good  and  learned,  and  some  of 
them  well  enough  in  looks ;  but  't  is  so  pretentious, 
so  serious,  —  I  lack  a  word !  —  so  censorious  of  all 
that  does  not  pull  a  long  face,  that,  when  Mrs 
Montagu  rose  to  meet  us  with  the  shade  of  Shake 
speare  in  attendance  (for  no  lower  footman  would 
serve  so  majestic  a  lady),  I  had  a  desire  to  seize  her 
two  hands  and  gallop  round  the  room  with  her,  that 
I  could  scarce  restrain.  But  sure  she  and  the  com 
pany  had  died  of  it ! 

I  expected  great  information  from  such  an  as 
semblage,  but  't  was  but  a  snip-snap  of  talk  —  re 
marks  passed  from  one  to  another,  but  served  as  it 
were  on  massy  plate  —  long  words,  and  too  many  of 
'em.  Dull,  my  dear,  dull!  And  so  'twill  always 
be  when  people  aim  to  be  clever.  They  do  these 
things  better  in  France,  where  they  have  no  fear  of 
laughter  and  the  women  sparkle  without  a  visible 
machinery.  'T  was  all  standing  on  the  mind's  tip 
toe  here.  And  when  the  refreshments  were  served 
I  made  for  Horry  — 

On  silver  vases  loaded  rise 
The  biscuits'  ample  sacrifice, 
And  incense  pure  of  fragrant  tea. 


172  "THE  LADIES!" 

But  Bluestockingism  is  nourished  on  tea  as  wit 
on  wine. 

"So,  Mr  Walpole,"  says  I,  "what  is  this  news  I 
hear  of  Miss  Maria  ?  My  felicitations  to  the  bride 
groom  on  the  possession  of  so  many  charms." 

And  Horry  with  his  bow  :  — 

"I  thank  your  ladyship's  partiality  and  good  heart. 
For  character  and  credit,  Lord  Waldegrave  is  the  first 
match  in  England,  and  for  beauty,  Maria  —  ex 
cepting  only  the  lady  I  address.  The  family  is  well 
pleased,  though  't  is  no  more  than  her  deserts,  and 
't  was  to  be  expected  my  father's  grandchild  would 
ally  herself  with  credit." 

'T  is  when  Horry  Walpole  gives  himself  these 
demure  airs  that  I  am  tempted  to  be  wicked,  Kitty. 
For  what  signifies  talking  ?  The  girl  is  a  beauty,  but 
Nancy  Parsons  and  Kitty  Fisher  are  beauties,  too, 
and  if  the  court  and  peerage  are  opened  to  women  of 
no  birth,  why  what 's  left  for  women  of  quality  ? 
'T  is  certain  the  next  generation  of  the  peerage  bids 
fair  to  be  extreme  ill-born,  and  the  result  may  be 
surprising.  But  I  held  my  tongue,  for  I  have  a 
kindness  for  Horry  and  his  niece,  though  I  laugh 
at  'em. 

I  thought  Mr  Walpole  looked  ill,  and  doubted 
whether  I  might  hope  to  see  him  at  my  Tuesday  rout. 
Says  he :  — 

"  'T  is  the  gout,  Madam,  that  ungallant  disorder, 
and  had  I  a  mind  to  brag,  I  could  boast  of  a  little 
rheumatism  too ;  but  I  scorn  to  set  value  on  such 
trifles,  and  since  your  ladyship  does  me  the  honour  to 


THE  WALPOLE  BEAUTY  173 

bespeak  my  company,  I  will  come  if  't  were  in  my 
coffin  and  pair,.  May  I  hope  your  ladyship  will 
favour  us  at  Maria's  nuptials  ?  Sure  the  Graces  were 
ever  attended  by  Venus  on  occasions  of  ceremony." 

He  would  have  said  more,  but  the  Queen  of  the 
Blues  swam  up,  protesting  and  vowing  she  had  never 
seen  such  a  goddess  as  Miss  Maria  Walpole;  that 
were  she  to  marry  the  Emperor  of  the  world,  't  would 
be  vastly  below  the  merit  of  such  glowing  charms. 
And  so  forth. 

'T  is  a  lady  that  paints  all  her  roses  red  and  plasters 
her  lilies  white,  and  whether  't  is  malice,  I  can't  tell, 
but  believe  't  is  possible  to  blast  by  praise  as  well  as 
censure,  by  setting  the  good  sense  of  one  half  the 
world  and  the  envy  of  the  other  against  the  victim. 
So  she  shrugged  and  simpered  and  worked  every 
muscle  of  her  face,  in  hopes  to  be  bid  to  the  wedding ; 
but  Mr.  Walpole  only  bowed  very  grave  and  precise, 
and  turned  away,  and  I  with  him.  And  no  more 
circles  for  me,  my  dear ;  and  here  I  conclude,  and  my 
next  shall  be  the  epithalamium. 

ISth  May,  1759. 

Kitty,  child,  when  you  was  married,  did  you  look 
about  you  from  under  your  hat  ?  —  did  you  take  a 
sly  peep  at  the  World,  the  Flesh,  and  the  Devil,  and 
wonder  which  was  the  bridegroom  ?  I  did,  but  I  '11 
never  tell  which  he  proved  to  be !  Well,  Maria  was 
married  two  days  since,  and  Horry  Walpole  favoured 
me  today  with  a  glimpse  of  the  letter  he  writ  to  his 
friend  Montagu  on  the  occasion.  'Twas  very 


174  "THE  LADIES!" 

obliging;  but  yau  know  all  he  writes  is  writ  with 
one  eye  on  the  paper  and  one  on  posterity,  so  't  is 
no  wonder  if  he  squints  a  little  by  times.  However, 
here  's  to  our  letter. 

"The  original  day  was  not  once  put  off  —  lawyers 
and  milliners  all  canonically  ready.  They  were 
married  in  Pall  Mall  just  before  dinner,  and  we  all 
dined  there,  and  the  Earl  and  the  new  Countess 
got  into  their  post-chaise  at  eight  and  went  to  Nave- 
stock  alone.  On  Sunday  she  is  to  be  presented  and 
to  make  my  Lady  Coventry  distracted.  Maria  was 
in  a  white  and  silver  night  gown,  with  a  hat  very  much 
pulled  over  her  face.  What  one  could  see  of  it  was 
handsomer  than  ever.  A  cold  maiden  blush  gave  her 
the  sweetest  delicacy  in  the  world." 

So  far  our  doting  uncle,  Kitty ;  but  't  is  indeed  a 
fair  creature.  I  saw  the  long  soft  brown  eyes  lifted 
once  and  flash  such  a  look  at  the  bridegroom  —  I 
dare  to  swear  Lord  Waldegrave  wished  away  then 
the  twenty  years  between  them.  Poor  Lady  Coven 
try,  indeed  !  Her  race  is  run,  her  thread  is  spun,  her 
goose  is  cooked,  and  any  other  trope  you  please ;  for 
what  signifies  all  the  white  lead  at  the  'pothecary's 
compared  to  the  warm  brown  of  Maria's  complexion 
and  her  long  eyelashes  ! 

Lady  Elizabeth  Keppel  had  a  gown  worthy  of  the 
Roman  Empress  she  looks,  with  that  beak  nose  and 
nutcracker  chin.  'T  was  a  black  velvet  petticoat, 
embroidered  in  chenille,  the  pattern  a  great  gold 
wicker  basket  filled  to  spilling  over  with  ramping 


THE  WALPOLE  BEAUTY  175 

flowers  that  climbed  and  grew  all  about  her  person. 
A  design  for  a  banqueting  hall  rather  than  a  woman ; 
or  indeed  a  committee  of  Bluestockings  might  have 
wore  it  to  advantage.  She  had  winkers  of  lace  to 
her  head,  and  her  hoop  covered  so  many  acres  that 
one  could  but  approach  at  an  awful  distance  and 
confidences  were  impossible  —  a  sure  reason  why 
the  modish  ladies  will  soon  drop  the  hoop. 

I  saluted  the  bride  after  the  ceremony  and  says 

I:  — 

"Maria,  my  love,  I  attend  your  presentation  on 
Sunday,  and  I  bring  my  smelling-bottle  for  Lady 
Coventry.  'T  is  already  said  her  guards  will  now 
be  transferred  to  your  ladyship,  together  with  a 
detachment  from  each  ship  of  the  Fleet,  to  secure  so 
much  beauty." 

She  has  the  sweetest  little  dimple  in  either  cheek, 
and  twenty  Cupids  hide  under  her  lashes. 

"I  have  no  wish,  Madam,  to  dethrone  my  Lady 
Coventry,  if  even  't  were  possible,"  says  she.  "That 
lady  has  occupied  the  throne  so  long,  that  't  is  hers 
by  right,  and  the  English  people  never  weary  of  an 
old  favourite." 

'Twas  two-edged,  Kitty,  as  you  see,  and  I  will 
report  it  to  the  other  lovely  Maria,  and  't  will  be 
pretty  to  see  the  rapiers  flash  between  the  two.  'T  is 
not  only  the  men  carry  dress  swords,  child.  But  I 
thought  Miss  Maria  a  downy  nestling,  with  never  a 
thought  of  repartee,  till  now.  'T  is  born  in  us,  child. 
It  begins  with  our  first  word  and  is  our  last  earthly 
sigh. 


176  "THE  LADIES!" 

May,  1759. 

Well,  was  you  at  the  presentation,  Lady  Desmond, 
for  I  did  not  see  your  la'ship. 

Says  you :  "  How  was  that  possible  with  the  Irish 
Sea  between  us  ?  So  out  with  the  news  !" 

The  company  was  numerous  and  magnificent,  and 
Horry  Walpole  in  his  wedding  garment  of  a  white 
brocade  with  purple  and  green  flowers.  'T  was  a 
trifle  juvenile  for  his  looks,  but  I  blame  him  not ;  for 
my  Lady  Townshend  would  choose  for  him,  though 
he  protested  that,  however  young  he  might  be  in 
spirits,  his  bloom  was  a  little  past.  I  could  see  he 
was  quaking  for  his  nuptialities  —  lest  Maria  should 
not  be  in  full  beauty. 

T'  other  Maria,  —  Coventry,  —  in  golden  flowers 
on  a  silver  ground,  looked  like  the  Queen  of  Sheba; 
and  were  not  our  Monarch  anything  but  a  Solomon, 
I  would  not  say  but  —  A  full  stop  to  all  naughtiness  ! 
But  I  must  tell  you  her  last  faux  pas,  for  you  know, 
child,  she  's  as  stupid  as  she  's  pretty.  She  told  the 
King  lately  that  she  was  surfeited  with  sights.  There 
was  but  one  left  she  could  long  to  see.  What,  think 
you,  it  was  ?  —  why,  a  coronation  ! 

The  old  man  took  it  with  good  humour ;  but  Queen 
Bess  had  made  a  divorce  between  her  lovely  head  and 
shoulders  for  less. 

Well,  into  the  midst  of  this  prodigious  assemblage, 
with  Uncle  Horry  quaking  inwardly  and  making  as 
though  Walpole  nieces  were  presented  every  day, 
comes  the  fair  Waldegrave,  gliding  like  a  swan,  per 
fectly  easy  and  genteel,  in  a  silver  gauze  with  knots 


THE  WALPOLE  BEAUTY  177 

of  silver  ribbon  and  diamonds  not  so  bright  as  her 
eyes.  I  dare  swear  not  a  man  there  but  envied  my 
Lord  Waldegrave,  and  many  might  envy  the  beauty 
her  husband  —  a  good  plain  man,  grave  and  hand 
some.  But  the  bride !  She  swam  up  to  His  Majesty, 
like  Venus  floating  on  clouds,  and  her  curtsey  and 
hand-kissing  perfect.  Who  shall  talk  of  blood  in 
future,  when  a  milliner's  daughter  can  thus  distin 
guish  herself  in  the  finest  company  in  Europe  ?  'T  is 
true  't  is  mixed  with  the  Walpole  vintage ;  but  when 
all 's  said  and  done,  who  were  the  Walpoles  ?  If  you 
get  behind  the  coarse,  drinking  Squire  Western  of  a 
father,  you  stumble  up  against  Lord  Mayors  and 
what  not !  So  't  is  a  world's  wonder,  and  there  I 
leave  it. 

As  for  Maria  Coventry  —  do  but  figure  her!  I 
saw  her  pale  under  her  rouge  when  the  bride  entered, 
and  her  eyes  shot  sparks  of  fire,  like  an  angry  goddess. 
Could  they  have  destroyed,  we  had  seen  her  rival  a 
heap  of  ashes  like  the  princess  of  the  Arabian  Nights. 
I  tendered  her  my  smelling-bottle,  but  she  dashed  it 
from  her,  and  then,  smiling  in  the  prettiest  manner 
in  the  world,  says  to  my  Lord  Hardwicke :  — 

"  'T  is  said  women  are  jealous  of  each  other's  good 
looks,  my  Lord,  but 't  is  not  so  with  me.  I  am  vastly 
pleased  with  my  Lady  Waldegrave's  appearance. 
'T  is  far  beyond  what  was  to  be  expected  of  her 
parentage.  She  looks  vastly  agreeable,  and  I  hope 
she  will  favour  me  with  her  company." 

'T  was  cleverer  than  I  supposed  her,  and  sure 
enough  she  did  nothing  but  court  the  bride,  and  now 


178  "THE  LADIES!" 

the  two  beauties  go  about  to  the  sights  and  routs  to 
gether  and  are  the  top  figures  in  town,  and  all  the 
world  feasts  its  eyes  upon  two  such  works  of  nature 
-  and  Art  it  must  be  added,  so  far  as  Maria  Coventry 
is  concerned ;  she  is  two  inches  deep  in  white  lead,  and 
the  doctors  have  warned  her  Jt  will  be  the  death  of  her. 
Kitty,  I  found  my  first  gray  hair  yesterday.  'T  is 
my  swan  song.  I  am  done  with  the  beaux  and  the 
toasts  and  the  fripperies.  When  I  spoke  to  Harry 
Conway  at  the  Court,  his  eyes  were  so  fixed  on  Lady 
Waldegrave  that  he  heard  me  not  till  I  had  spoke 
three  times.  Get  thee  to  a  nunnery,  Fanny !  I  shall 
now  insensibly  drop  into  a  spectatress.  What  care 
I !  To  ninety -nine  women  life  ends  with  their  looks, 
but  I  will  be  the  hundredth,  and  laugh  till  I  die ! 

Why,  Kitty,  your  appetite  for  news  grows  by 
what  it  feeds  on.  Sure  you  are  the  horseleech's  true 
daughter,  crying,  "Give,  give!"  You  say  I  told 
you  not  of  Charlotte  Walpole's  marriage.  Sure,  I 
did.  Maria  married  her  sister  well  —  to  young  Lord 
Huntingtower,  my  Lord  Dysart's  son.  'T  is  a  girl 
of  good  sense.  She  loved  him  not,  nor  yet  pretended 
to,  but  says  she  to  Maria :  — 

"If  I  was  nineteen,  I  would  not  marry  him.  I 
would  refuse  point-blank.  But  I  am  two-and-twenty, 
and  though  't  is  true  some  people  say  I  am  handsome, 
't  is  not  all  who  think  so.  I  believe  the  truth  is,  I 
am  like  to  be  large  and  heavy  and  go  off  soon.  'T  is 
dangerous  to  refuse  so  good  a  match.  Therefore  tell 
him,  sister,  I  accept." 


THE  WALPOLE  BEAUTY  179 

And  't  was  done.  I  had  this  from  Maria  herself, 
who  took  it  for  an  instance  of  commendable  good 
sense ;  but  I  know  not  —  somehow  I  would  have  a 
girl  less  of  a  Jew  with  her  charms.  Anyhow,  stout 
or  no,  she  will  be  my  Lady  Countess  Dysart  when 
his  father  dies;  and  now  sure,  there  are  no  more 
worlds  left  for  the  Walpole  girls  to  conquer.  Their 
doting  Uncle  Horry  could  never  predict  such  success. 
The  eldest  girl's  husband  is  now  Bishop  of  Exeter. 

Poor  Maria  Coventry  is  dead  —  the  most  lovely 
woman  in  England,  setting  aside  only  t'  other  Maria. 
'T  was  from  usage  of  white  lead,  Kitty,  and  tell  that 
to  all  the  little  fools  you  know!  It  devoured  her 
skin,  and  she  grew  so  hideous,  that  at  the  last  she 
would  not  permit  the  doctors  to  see  her  ruined  face, 
but  would  put  out  her  hand  between  the  curtains  to 
have  her  pulse  took.  She  was  but  twenty-seven 
years  of  age. 

There  was  not  a  woman  in  the  Three  Kingdoms 
but  envied  the  Gunnings,  and  was  't  not  yourself  told 
me,  "the  Luck  of  the  Gunnings"  was  become  a  prov 
erb  in  Ireland,  and  the  highest  wish  for  a  girl  ?  What 
will  the  sermonizers  say  now  ?  That  't  is  best  to  be 
homely  and  live  to  eighty  ?  I  know  not ;  but  't  is 
as  well  the  choice  is  not  given,  for  I  believe  there 
is  not  ten  women  living  but  would  choose  as  did 
Maria  Coventry.  Her  beauty  was  her  god,  and  if 
she  sacrificed  herself  on  the  altar,  't  is  but  what  the 
gods  look  for. 

Sure,  I  am  Death's  herald,  for  I  must  tell  you  my 
Lord  Waldegrave  is  dead  of  the  smallpox,  and  the 


180  "THE  LADIES!" 

beauty  a  widow  after  but  four  years'  marriage.  I 
saw  her  but  yesterday,  full  of  sensibility  and  lovely 
as  Sigismonda  in  Hogarth's  picture.  She  had  her 
young  daughter,  Lady  Elizabeth,  in  her  lap,  the  curly 
head  against  her  bosom,  the  chubby  cheek  resting 
on  a  little  hand  against  the  mother's  breast.  Sure 
never  was  anything  so  moving  as  the  two  —  exact 
to  the  picture  Mr  Reynolds  painted. 

She  has  a  great  tenderness  for  his  memory,  and 
well  she  may,  when  the  position  he  raised  her  to  is 
considered.  'T  is  like  a  discrowned  queen,  for  her 
jointure  is  small,  and  she  is  now  no  more  consequence 
to  his  party,  so  his  death  has  struck  away  her  worldly 
glory  at  a  blow.  Indeed,  I  pitied  her,  and  wiped 
away  her  floods  of  tears  with  tenderness  that  was 
unaffected.  But  for  such  a  young  woman,  I  won't 
believe  the  scene  is  closed.  What  —  are  there  no 
marquises,  no  dukes,  for  such  perfection  ? 

But  't  is  brutal  to  talk  so  when  she  is  crying  her 
fine  eyes  out.  I  wipe  my  naughty  pen  and  bid  you 
adieu. 

Two  days  later. 

I  attended  Mrs  Minerva  Montagu's  reception,  and 
there  encountered  the  Great  Cham  of  Literature, 
Dr  Johnson,  rolling  into  the  saloon  like  Behemoth. 
Lady  Waldegrave's  bereavement  was  spoke  of  and 
says  he :  — 

"I  know  not,  Madam,  why  these  afflictions  should 
startle  us.  Such  beauty  invokes  ill  fortune,  lest  a 
human  being  suppose  herself  superior  to  the  dictates 
of  Providence." 


THE  WALPOLE  BEAUTY  181 

"Certainly  she  is  the  first  woman  in  England  for 
beauty,"  says  I,  very  nettled ;  "but 't  is  to  be  thought 
she  had  chose  a  little  less  beauty  and  rather  more 
good  fortune,  had  she  been  consulted.  5T  is  hard 
she  should  be  punished  for  what  she  could  not  help  !" 

"Let  her  solace  herself  with  her  needleworks, 
Madam.  A  man  cannot  hem  a  pocket  handkerchief 
and  so  he  runs  mad.  To  be  occupied  on  small  occa 
sions  is  one  of  the  great  felicities  of  the  female  train 
and  makes  bereavement  more  bearable." 

'T  is  a  bear  roaring  his  ignorance  of  the  world,  my 
dear.  But  he  has  a  kind  of  horse  sense  (if  the  female 
train  would  but  let  him  be)  that  makes  him  endurable 
and  even  palatable  at  times. 

Mrs  Montagu  informed  us  't  is  rumoured  that  my 
Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montagu  (who  you  know  is  her 
cousin's  cousin)  thinks  to  return  to  England  after 
being  absent  half  a  lifetime.  I  have  a  prodigious 
curiosity  to  see  such  a  rarity.  As  for  her  beauty, 
that  must  be  vanished,  but  her  biting  wit  may  out 
live  it,  and  Heaven  send  her  here  safe,  I  pray,  to 
give  a  lash  to  the  follies  of  more  than  one  I  could 
name,  had  I  the  malice.  Were  she  to  write  a  book 
of  her  Me,  't  would  be  the  best  reading  in  the  world, 
could  one  wash  their  eyes  and  mind  after  reading  it. 

1764. 

Kitty,  my  dear,  have  you  forgot  that,  when  my 
Lord  Waldegrave  died,  I  writ,  "Are  there  no  dukes 
to  pursue  the  lovely  widow?"  Give  honour  to  the 
prophet!  She  refused  the  Duke  of  Portland,  that 


182  "THE  LADIES!" 

all  the  fair  were  hunting  with  stratagems  worthy  of 
the  Mohawks.  She  refused  this,  that,  and  t'  other. 
And  the  town  said :  "  Pray  who  is  the  milliner's 
daughter,  to  turn  up  her  nose  at  the  first  matches  in 
England?  Has  she  designs  on  the  King  of  Prussia, 
—  for  our  own  young  monarch  is  wed  to  his  Char 
lotte,  —  or  is  it  the  Sultan,  or  His  Holiness  the  Pope 
that  will  content  her  ladyship  ?" 

No  answer.  But,  Kitty,  't  is  me  to  smell  a  rat 
at  a  considerable  distance,  and  I  kept  my  nostrils 
open !  Our  handsome  young  King  has  a  handsome 
young  brother,  —  His  Royal  Highness  the  Duke  of 
Gloucester,  —  and  this  gentleman  has  cast  the  sheep's 
eye,  the  eye  of  passion,  upon  our  lovely  widow  !  What 
think  you  of  this  ?  That  it  cannot  be  ?  Then  what 
of  the  King  Cophetua  and  other  historic  examples  ? 
I  would  have  you  know  that  in  the  tender  passion 
there's  nothing  that  cannot  be.  It  laughs  at  ob 
stacles  and  rides  triumphant  on  the  crest  of  the  im 
possible.  I  knew  it  long  since,  but  't  is  over  the 
town  like  wildfire  now. 

Meeting  my  Lady  Sarah  Bunbury  yesterday,  says 
she :  — 

"Lady  Fanny,  sure  you  know  the  Duke  of 
Gloucester  is  desperately  in  love  with  my  Lady 
Waldegrave.  Now  don't  mask  your  little  cunning 
face  with  ignorance,  but  tell  me  what 's  known. 
What  have  you  heard  from  Horry  Walpole?" 

"Nothing,  your  la'ship,"  says  I,  very  demure. 

"Well,"  says  she,  "'tis  reported  the  King  has 
forbid  him  to  speak  to  his  fair  widow,  and  she  is  gone 


THE  WALPOLE  BEAUTY  183 

out  of  town.  He  has  given  her  two  pearl  bracelets 
worth  five  hundred  pound.  That 's  not  for  nothing 
surely.  But  for  what?" 

"Indeed,  't  is  an  ambiguous  gift,  Madam,"  says  I, 
whimsically;  "and  may  mean  much  or  little.  Give 
me  leave  to  ask  whether  't  is  Pursuit  or  Attainment 
as  your  la'ship  reads  it?" 

But  she  tossed  her  head,  the  little  gossip,  and  off 
she  went. 

I  can  tell  you  thus  much,  Kitty :  the  Walpoles  are 
main  frightened.  It  may  be  a  cast-back  to  the  prin 
ciples  of  the  milliner  mother.  And  there  was  never 
the  difference  between  her  and  Sir  Edward  Walpole 
that  there  is  between  Maria  and  a  Prince  of  the 
Blood.  Her  birth  is  impossible.  My  Lady  Mary 
Coke  asking  me  if  the  mother  were  not  a  washer 
woman,  says  I,  "I  really  cannot  determine  the  lady's 
profession." 

Poor  Lady  Mary  is  run  clean  mad  with  jealousy 
and  spite,  for 't  is  not  so  long  since  she  believed  her 
self  on  the  way  to  be  a  Royal  Duchess,  imagining 
the  late  Duke  of  York  to  be  her  lover  —  a  gentleman 
so  passionately  in  love  with  himself  as  to  leave  no 
room  for  another.  She  wore  her  blacks  when  he 
died,  like  a  widow.  But,  spitfire  as  Lady  Mary  is, 
't  is  too  true  Maria  is  playing  with  fire,  and  there 
should  be  nothing  between  him  and  her  mother's 
daughter.  She  is  indeed  more  indiscreet  than  be 
comes  her.  His  chaise  is  eternally  at  her  door; 
and,  as  my  Lady  Mary  says,  she  is  lucky  that  anyone 
else  countenances  her  at  all.  If  they  do,  't  is  as 


184  "THE  LADIES!" 

much  from  curiosity  as  any  nobler  emotion.  Indeed, 
I  fear  her  reputation 's  cracked  past  repair.  Meeting 
Horry  Walpole  last  night  at  the  French  Embassador's, 
he  was  plagued  with  staring  crowds,  and  he  made  off 
after  braving  it  a  while.  I  hear  the  King  is  highly 
offended  and  the  Queen  yet  more.  She  has  a  great 
notion  of  birth ;  and  though  poor,  the  Mecklenburg 
family  has  as  good  quarterings  as  any  Royals  in 
Europe.  For  my  part,  Kitty,  I  know  not.  Yet, 
if  we  seek  for  pedigree  in  horse  and  dog,  't  is  to  be 
supposed  worth  something  in  Adam's  breed  also. 
And  this  ill-behaviour  in  Maria  confirms  me. 

Yet  I  have  visited  the  fair  sinner,  for  I  love  her 
well.  She  can't  help  neither  her  birth  nor  her  beauty, 
but  sure  her  kind  heart  is  all  her  own.  She  wept  and 
would  reveal  nothing,  but  asked  me  to  be  so  much 
her  friend  as  to  think  the  best  of  her.  'T  is  pity  her 
tears  were  wasted  on  a  mere  woman.  The  drops 
beaded  on  her  lashes  like  rain  on  a  rose.  Well,  God 
mend  all !  say  I.  Sure  none  of  us  have  a  clear  con 
science  and  if  anyone  was  to  come  up  behind  us  and 
whisper,  "I  know  when,  how,  and  who!"  'tis  cer 
tain  there  are  few  women  but  would  die  of  terror. 
Yet  I  did  not  think  Maria  a  rake  —  though  a  Prince's. 

'T  is  pity  Lady  Mary,  the  Great  Wortley  Montagu, 
is  dead,  that  would  have  relished  all  this  talk  to  the 
full.  Can  I  forget  when  I  visited  her  two  years  since 
just  before  she  died  —  her  vivacity  and  the  tales 
she  told  of  the  junketings  of  Queen  Anne's  Court 
and  George  the  First's !  Gracious  powers,  Kitty,  to 
think  of  our  grandmothers'  conduct  and  our  own 


THE  WALPOLE  BEAUTY  185 

excellence  in  comparison!  I  have  not  heard  a 
scandal  since,  but  I  have  vied  it  with  theirs  and  found 
it  a  mere  caprice.  'T  was  almost  affrighting  to  see 
that  old  lady,  propped  up  in  her  chair,  and  croaking 
out  tales  of  the  grandparents  of  every  person  known 
to  me,  not  forgetting  my  own,  and  laughing  with  a 
horrid  glee  and  a  fire  in  her  ancient  eye,  till  I  expected 
to  see  her  fly  off  like  a  witch  on  a  broomstick.  Sure, 
thinks  I,  no  respectable  young  woman  will  be  seen 
conversing  with  her  grandmother  after  this !  Mrs 
Montagu  carried  me  to  see  her,  and  I  could  scarce 
thank  her  for  it.  Lord  help  us  !  does  the  world  grow 
better  or  worse  ?  I  must  take  Mr  Walpole's  opinion. 

1772. 

Kitty,  Kitty,  't  is  all  come  out !  But  I  may  say 
the  town  knew  it  after  the  masquerade  in  Soho,  when 
His  Royal  Highness  appeared  as  Edward  the  Fourth 
and  Maria  as  Elizabeth  Woodville,  the  pretty  widow 
he  made  his  Queen.  You  '11  allow  't  was  a  delicate 
way  to  let  the  cat  out  of  the  bag.  It  could  not 
longer  be  kept  within  it,  for  the  lady's  sake  and  more. 
For  there  's  to  be  a  little  new  claimant  one  day  to  the 
Crown,  if  all  the  elder  stem  should  fail. 

They  were  married,  Kitty,  in  1766!  Sure  never 
was  an  amazing  secret  better  kept !  And  I  will  say 
she  hath  borne  much  for  the  Prince's  sake,  and  with 
good  sense  —  let  my  Lady  Mary  Coke  and  all  the 
Furies  say  what  they  will.  But  think  of  it  —  think 
of  it !  for  indeed  't  is  scarce  credible.  Here  's  Maria 
No-name  —  the  milliner's  base-born  daughter  —  to 


186  "THE  LADIES!" 

be  Her  Royal  Highness  the  Duchess  of  Gloucester, 
Princess  of  Great  Britain !  Was  ever  human  fate  so 
surprising  ?  'T  was  a  secret  even  from  her  father 
and  uncle,  by  the  Duke's  command ;  but  she  has  now 
writ  her  father  so  pretty  a  letter  that  't  is  the  town's 
talk,  Horry  Walpole  having  shewed  it  about.  But 
Horry  —  have  you  forgot  his  pride,  hid  always  under 
a  nonchalance  as  if  't  was  nothing  ?  I  was  at 
Gloucester  House,  where  she  received  en  princesse, 
two  nights  ago ;  and  to  see  Horry  kiss  her  hand  and 
hear  him  address  her  with,  "Madam,  your  Royal 
Highness,"  at  every  word  —  sure  no  wit  of  Congreve's 
could  ever  equal  the  comedy  !  But  if  looks  were  all, 
she  should  be  Queen  of  England  —  a  shining  beauty 
indeed  !  She  wore  a  robe  in  the  French  taste,  of  gold 
tissue,  her  hair  lightly  powdered,  with  a  bandeau  of 
diamonds  and  the  Duke's  miniature  in  diamonds  on 
her  breast.  He,  looking  very  ill  at  ease,  as  I  must 
own,  stood  beside  her. 

The  King  and  our  little  Mecklenburger  Queen  are 
distracted;  the  royal  ire  withers  all  before  it;  but 
it  can't  be  undone,  though  they  will  pass  a  Marriage 
Act  to  make  such  escapades  impossible  in  the  future. 

But  the  Walpole  triumph !  'T  is  now  proved  in 
the  face  of  all  the  world  that  a  Walpole  illegitimate 
is  better  than  a  German  Royalty ;  for  he  might  have 
married  where  he  would.  No  doubt  but  Horry 
Walpole  always  thought  so,  yet  't  is  not  always  we 
see  our  family  pride  so  bolstered. 

Meagre  as  a  skeleton,  he  looked  the  genteelest 
phantom  you  can  conceive,  in  puce  velvet  and  steel 


THE  WALPOLE  BEAUTY  187 

embroideries.  For  my  part,  I  am  well  content,  and 
wish  Her  Royal  Highness  joy  without  grimace. 
'T  is  true  I  laugh  at  Horry  Walpole,  for  in  this  town 
we  laugh  at  everything,  from  the  Almighty  to  Kitty 
Fisher ;  but  I  have  a  kindness  for  him  and  for  Maria, 
and  had  sooner  they  triumphed  than  another.  'T  is 
not  so  with  the  town.  O  Kitty,  the  jealousy  and 
malice !  'T  would  take  fifty  letters  to  tell  you  the 
talk,  from  the  Court  down. 

Well,  Her  Royal  Highness  gave  me  her  hand  to 
kiss,  very  gracious.  She  will  not  let  her  dignity 
draggle  in  the  mud,  like  others  I  could  name.  But 
whether  she  would  have  been  more  easy  with  Port 
land  or  another,  I  will  not  determine.  The  Fates 
alone  know,  and  sure  they  can't  be  women,  they  keep 
their  secrets  so  well ! 


A  BLUESTOCKING  AT  COURT 


FANNY  BURNEY 

MADAME  D'ARBLAY 

1752-1840 

"SEND  me  a  minute  Journal  of  everything," 
begs  Mr.  Crisp,  "and  never  mind  their  being 
trifles  —  trifles  well-dressed  are  excellent  food,  and 
your  cookery  is  with  me  of  established  reputation." 

Fanny  Burney's  letters,  full  of  "trifles  well- 
dressed"  are  as  delightful  as  the  novels,  "Evelina," 
"Cecilia,"  and  "Camilla,"  that  made  her  famous. 
The  skill  of  her  writing  and  the  charm  of  her  char 
acter,  "half-and-half  sense  and  modesty,"  won  her 
the  friendship  of  Burke,  Sheridan,  Walpole,  War 
ren  Hastings,  Hannah  More,  the  Queen,  and  Dr. 
Johnson. 

"She  is  a  real  wonder,"  said  Johnson  to  Mrs. 
Thrale. 

When  Queen  Charlotte  made  her  second-keeper 
of  the  robes,  her  novel-reading  friends  protested 
that  she  had  been  "royally  gagged  and  promoted 
to  fold  muslins."  After  four  years  of  it,  she  re 
turned  to  her  home,  her  writing,  and  her  marriage 
with  General  d'Arblay.  With  the  proceeds  of  her 
most  profitable  novel,  she  built  Camilla  Cottage, 
where,  with  her  good  Alexandre  and  her  gay  little 
son,  she  could  live  and  write,  "Pleasure  is  seated 
in  London,  joy,  mirth,  society  ;  but  happiness,  oh, 
it  has  taken  its  seat,  its  root,  at  West  Humble !" 
She  lived  to  be  eighty -eight. 

Yet  the  world  still  thinks  of  her  on  those  youth 
ful  visits  at  Mrs.  Thrale's  in  Streatham,  when,  if 
she  seemed  about  to  take  her  leave,  Dr.  Johnson 
would  exclaim,  "Don't  you  go,  little  Burney,  don't 
you  go!" 


M- 


VI 
A  BLUESTOCKING  AT  COURT 

[The  following  is  endorsed:  "Miss  P.'s  Narrative  of  the 
causes  leading  to  the  celebrated  Miss  Burney's  retire 
ment  from  Court  in  the  year  1791."] 

THE  intention  of  this  narrative  of  Miss  Burn ey's 
later  residence  at  the  Court  of  Their  Majesties  King 
George  the  Third  and  Queen  Charlotte  is  simple.  I 
am  informed  that  reports  spread  among  her  friends 
have  given  birth  to  the  notion  that  she  was  harshly 
treated,  her  genius  slighted,  and  herself  subjected  to 
an  odious  tyranny  from  Mrs  Schwellenberg,  the 
Keeper  of  the  Robes,  and  that  she  fled  from  the  scene 
of  such  cruelties  as  the  only  means  of  preserving  her 
health  and  life.  As  an  eyewitness,  I  may  be  per 
mitted  to  set  forth  another  view  which,  though  un- 
coloured  by  the  rosy  or  lurid  hues  of  the  genius  of 
the  author  of  "Evelina,"  may  be  received  as  a  plain 
account  of  what  took  place,  especially  with  regard  to 
the  Honourable  Colonel  Digby  and  the  causes  of  the 
lady's  quitting  the  circle  of  the  attendants  on  Royalty. 
These  humble  notes  will  not  appear  to  the  world  until 
all  concerned  are  reposing  in  the  dust  of  the  tomb. 

I  had  the  distinction  to  be  early  made  privy  to 
Miss  Burney's  intention  to  resign  her  appointment; 
but  this  less  from  any  wish  of  her  own,  than  as  I  con 
cluded  from  my  own  observation.  She  did  not  sus 
pect  this,  nor  that  the  Queen's  ready  penetration  had 


192  " THE  LADIES!" 

prepared  her  also  for  the  coming  resignation  before 
it  was  respectfully  laid  at  her  feet.  Indeed,  much  of 
what  follows  she  was  a  total  stranger  to,  and  might 
have  found  it  difficult  to  credit  had  it  been  known  to 
her. 

It  was  the  custom  that,  while  Her  Majesty's  head 
was  powdering  and  her  powdering-gown  had  been 
placed  upon  the  Royal  person,  she  should  be  left  sola 
with  her  friseur,  when  she  usually  read  the  news 
papers.  On  a  certain  day,  however,  she  despatched 
Miss  Burney  for  me,  adding  that  she  need  not  return ; 
and  when  I  arrived,  addressed  me  as  follows  —  the 
man  not  comprehending  what  was  said :  — 

"There  is  a  little  matter  which  I  have  wished  to 
open  with  you.  I  have  some  reason  to  believe  Miss 
Burney's  spirits  a  little  sunk.  Do  you,  Miss  P.,  re 
mark  any  failure  in  this  respect?" 

Her  Majesty,  all  sweetness  and  benignity,  fixed  her 
eyes  on  me  as  well  as  the  operation  she  was  under 
going  would  permit  (the  man  casting  clouds  of  powder 
about  her),  and  awaited  my  reply.  Much  embar 
rassed,  for  it  is  the  first  rule  of  courts  to  make  no  com 
ment  on  the  affairs  of  others  to  the  ear  of  Royalty,  I 
stammered  a  few  words,  to  the  effect  that  I  thought 
Miss  Burney  imagined  her  health  a  little  declined, 
but  could  offer  no  opinion  of  my  own. 

"She  is  a  lady,"  continued  the  Queen,  "no  longer 
in  her  first  youth,  who  has  been  accustomed  to  much 
adulation  in  her  own  circle,  aixd  may  ..miss  that  in 


cense." 


I  murmured  that  it  might  be  supposed  the  dignity 


A  BLUESTOCKING  AT  COURT  193 

of  a  life  in  the  Royal  service  —  but  was  gently  inter 
rupted  :  — 

"No.  We  have  neither  the  time  nor  the  inclina 
tion  to  make  the  Court  a  Bluestocking  circle,  and 
Miss  Burney  may  prefer  such  surroundings.  But, 
why  I  address  you,  my  good  Miss  P.,  is  to  enquire 
whether  Miss  Burney  has  made  any  observation,  of 
course  not  confidential,  which  would  lead  you  to  sup 
pose  her  unsettled  in  her  intentions?" 

I  believed  that  I  realised  Her  Majesty's  views.  She 
would  probably  prefer  that  the  severance  should  come 
from  herself  and  not  from  the  lower  quarter.  Alas, 
how  little  did  I  do  justice  to  the  benevolence  of  her 
character !  I  hurriedly  replied  that  I  knew  nothing 
of  Miss  B.'s  mind  further  than  all  the  world  might 
know,  and  within  myself  earnestly  wished  Her  Maj 
esty  might  turn  the  subject  of  her  remarks.  She, 
however,  thought  proper  to  continue  with  a  mingled 
dignity  and  sweetness  which  distinguishes  all  she 
utters. 

"All  this  is  spoke  in  a  confidence  which  must  not 
be  broke.  But  if  there  were  any  little  agitation  of 
the  affections  which — " 

Here  the  Royal  speaker  was  herself  interrupted  by 
a  cloud  of  powder  which  the  unconscious  friseur  flung 
over  the  edifice  then  erecting.  It  gave  me  a  moment 
for  hasty  reflection.  Impossible  !  —  who  could  sup 
pose  that  Her  Majesty,  in  whose  presence  every  look 
was  restrained,  every  word  calculated,  could  have 
remarked  the  preference  by  which  I  had  long  known 
Miss  Burney  distinguished  Colonel  Digby?  He,  in 


194  "THE  LADIES!" 

the  first  anguish  of  bereavement  of  a  lovely  and  be 
loved  partner,  did  undoubtedly  seek  Miss  Burney's 
sympathy.  So  much  was  visible  to  all.  There  was 
even  a  certain  luxury  of  grief,  —  a  heightening  of  the 
loss,  —  which  gave  his  very  handsome  and  attractive 
person  an  interest  few  could  resist.  Many  indeed 
might  have  been  ready  for  the  tender  office  of  con- 
solatrix,  but  it  was  Miss  Burney  who  was  specially 
chosen,  and  the  conviction  formed  in  my  own  mind 
that  the  sympathy  she  so  feelingly  tendered  was  not 
untinged  by  a  rosy  flush  of  expectation.  The  cau 
tion  incident  to  life  at  Court  hindered  my  breathing 
so  delicate  a  suspicion  to  any,  and  that  Her  Majesty's 
calm  but  piercing  eye  should  have  discerned  any 
preference  did  indeed  animate  my  soul  with  astonish 
ment. 

"Ma'am,  your  Majesty's  observation  so  far  ex 
ceeds  my  own  poor  powers,"  said  I  fluttering,  "that, 
while  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  deny,  it  is  equally  im 
possible  for  me  to  confirm  it.  Miss  Burney's  supe 
rior  talents,  her  reserve,  constitute  a  barrier  which  — " 

"I  know  —  I  knew,"  interrupted  the  Queen,  "that 
I  could  not  expect  any  confirmation  from  you.  You 
are  discretion  itself.  I  am  surrounded  by  discretion. 
We  will  not  now  pursue  ike  subject  further.  Will  you 
oblige  me,  my  good  Miss  P.,  by  preparing  the  pocket- 
case  which  I  give  Lady  Harcourt  today." 

The  hint  was  an  order.  I  respectfully  retired  at 
once,  leaving  Her  Majesty  almost  concealed  in  the 
cloud  of  powder  which  was  casting  about  her  head 
dress. 


A  BLUESTOCKING  AT  COURT  195 

Any  little  unusual  occurrence  at  Court  causes  com 
ment,  and  I  was  obliged  to  meet  the  questioning  gaze 
of  the  ladies  in  attendance  with  composure.  I  men 
tioned  that  Her  Majesty  had  given  me  directions 
about  Lady  Harcourt's  pocket-case,  and  said  no  more. 
Miss  Burney  followed  me  to  the  room  where  it  was 
laid  out  in  readiness  for  wrapping  —  a  trifle  of  ex 
treme  elegance,  pink  satin  spangled  with  silver  and 
fitted  with  all  the  little  furniture  of  gold  scissors, 
bodkins,  thimble,  and  so  forth,  which  the  venerated 
friend  might  accept  as  a  compliment  both  royal  and 
affectionate.  Miss  Burney  admired  it  with  me. 

"It  resembles  that  formerly  given  to  sweet  Mrs 
Delany,"  said  she.  "Dear  excellence  —  sweet  heav 
enly  angel  departed  to  her  kindred  sphere !  What 
wonder  that  Their  Majesties'  discernment  should 
single  her  out  for  the  veneration  due  to  age  and  piety 
so  unaffected.  She  is  gone,  but  how  will  this  gift 
presented  to  the  equally  worthy  Lady  Harcourt  bring 
the  tear  to  her  eye  and  the  almost  pang  of  gratitude 
to  her  bosom !" 

I  made  an  appropriate  reply,  but  reflected.  These 
gushes  of  feeling  on  the  part  of  Miss  Burney  some 
times  appeared  to  me  a  little  overwrought  and  de 
signed  to  conceal  a  sharpness  of  wit  and  observation 
which  she  feared  to  exercise  in  courtly  circles.  In 
this  resolve  she  was  doubtless  discreet,  but  it  gave 
her  conversation  a  turn  of  unreality  which  impressed 
as  might  the  use  of  some  perfume  of  Araby  to  conceal 
a  less  romantic  odour.  It  affected  my  own  candour 
disagreeably.  Possibly  the  praise  received  by  the 


196  "THE  LADIES!" 

author  of  "Evelina"  might  cause  her  to  abandon  the 
common  modes  of  conversation  and  talk  literary,  if 
I  may  so  express  it;  but  it  was,  to  my  knowledge,  a 
great  disappointment  to  the  Queen,  who  loved  good 
talk  and  in  her  position  could  expect  but  little  of  it. 
She  had  formed  great  hopes  of  the  wit  and  originality 
of  Miss  Burney,  and  was  always  met  only  by  a  senti 
mental  silence,  coupled  with  an  affected  modesty 
which  promised  nothing  fresh.  Her  reading-aloud 
was  also  not  of  a  high  order,  and  her  slender  knowl 
edge  of  books,  apart  from  her  own,  astonished  the 
hopeful  Queen,  who  had  looked  forward  to  much 
pleasing  entertainment  in  her  company. 

There  were  also  other  difficulties.  Miss  Burney's 
extreme  sensitiveness  to  her  own  dignity  operated  as 
a  hindrance  to  herself  as  well  as  her  friends.  Never 
can  I  forget  her  expression  on  hearing  that  a  bell 
was  to  be  the  means  of  her  summons  to  attend  her 
Royal  Mistress.  She  was  ever  ready  to  anticipate  a 
slight;  and  that  I  may  not  be  supposed  malicious 
in  this  statement,  I  will  cite  what  was  said  by  her  old 
friend,  the  brilliant  Mrs  Thrale-Piozzi  on  this  circum 
stance  :  — 

"I  live  with  her  in  a  degree  of  pain  which  pre 
cludes  friendship  —  dare  not  ask  her  to  buy  me  a 
ribbon  —  dare  not  desire  her  to  touch  the  bell,  lest 
she  should  think  herself  slighted." 

It  can  readily  be  imagined  that  slights  would  in 
such  a  case  be  imagined  where  none  were  intended. 

It  was  a  habit  Miss  Burney  encouraged  in  herself 
to  use  the  longest  words  to  express  the  simplest  opin- 


A  BLUESTOCKING  AT  COURT  197 

ions.  Colonel  Manners,  who  laughed  at  all  and 
everyone,  declared  she  had  made  the  illustrious  Dr 
Johnson  her  model,  and  would  slyly  note  down  some 
of  her  most  flowing  periods  to  deliver  them,  enhanced 
by  humour,  when  she  had  left  the  room.  I  mean 
only  to  imply  that  she  chose  the  corporeal  style  of  the 
famous  Doctor  without  acquiring  the  zest  and  gusto 
of  that  great  man. 

But  this  is  to  digress. 

"The  equerries  will  attend  us  at  tea  today,  Miss 
P.,"  she  observed.  "Colonel  Manners  and  Colonel 
Digby  will  be  present  and  Mr  de  la  Giffardiere. 
Colonel  Digby's  spirits  depend  much  upon  female 
support  and  sustentation.  He  loves  to  contem 
plate  the  melancholy  aspects  in  a  way  which  cannot 
but  be  harmful  to  a  character  so  feeling." 

I  replied  collectedly :  — 

"  Colonel  Digby  owes  much  to  Miss  Burney  for  all 
the  consolations  of  literature  and  religion  so  chari 
tably  offered.  But  indeed  who  would  not  sympa 
thise  with  his  bereavement  of  a  partner  so  lovely  that, 
should  he  ever  think  of  replacing  her,  beauty  of  the 
first  order  must  be  his  object." 

This  was  perhaps  a  little  pointed,  but  I  could  never 
agree  in  Dr  Johnson's  estimate  of  her  as  "Pretty 
Burney,"  and  she  was  not  reckoned  a  pretty  woman 
by  others.  She  had  not  the  graces  of  height  nor  ele 
gance  in  movement,  and  might  in  complexion  be 
called  a  brown  woman.  The  eyes,  while  expressive, 
were  decidedly  green.  If  I  add  that  she  slightly 
stooped,  though  by  no  means  sufficiently  to  be  a 


198  "THE  LADIES!"" 

deformity,  and  that  her  features  were,  on  the  whole, 
pleasing,  I  have  been  honest  in  my  description. 

While  we  were  speaking,  the  Princess  Royal  en 
tered,  fresh  and  bright  as  the  day,  to  inspect  the  case 
and  add  to  it  her  own  little  tribute,  a  posy  of  beauti 
ful  satin  flowers  made  by  her  own  fair  hands.  This 
she  attached  to  the  case. 

"I  really  think  it  very  pretty,"  she  said,  adding  in 
the  most  winning  manner,  "I  hope  Miss  Burney  and 
Miss  P.  approve  it.  Princess  Elizabeth's  gift  is  a 
fairing  from  Cheltenham  —  a  most  elegant  little  box, 
containing  a  bottle  of  rose  perfume  which  came  to 
mama  from  India,  in  the  great  box  from  the  Bengal 
Nabob." 

This  would  add  interest  to  the  gift,  these  bottles 
consisting  of  a  minute  tube  of  the  precious  oil  of  roses, 
enclosed,  as  it  were,  in  a  thick  tube  of  embossed  glass, 
ornamented  with  gold  and  sealed.  Each  of  the  lovely 
Princesses  now  brought  her  gift,  and  each  spoke  with 
us  with  the  most  conciliatory  softness.  Princess 
Elizabeth  said  laughing :  - 

"How  go  the  equerries'  teas,  Miss  Burney?  Do 
they  still  insist  on  their  right  to  wait  on  you,  even 
when  Mrs  Schwellenberg  is  present?" 

Miss  Burney  curtseyed,  a  little  out  of  countenance. 
I  put  in  my  word  :  - 

"Why,  Ma'am,  they  are  very  constant.  We  have 
much  entertainment  from  Colonel  Manners  and  Mr 
de  la  Giffardiere  —  especially  the  latter." 

"I  can  believe  that,"  said  she,  laughing  again. 
"His  spirits  grow  more  boisterous  daily.  Mama 


A  BLUESTOCKING  AT  COURT  199 

says  an  hour  of  his  company  is  like  a  walk  in  a  high 
wind.  But  you  know  how  we  all  value  and  respect 
him.  What  a  contrast  to  poor  Colonel  Digby  !" 

"I  imagine,  Ma'am,  that  Colonel  Digby  too  is  re 
covering  his  spirits  a  little  under  our  united  kind 
treatment.  He  was  even  observed  in  a  melancholy 
smile  yesterday,"  said  I. 

Her  Royal  Highness  smiled  with  a  soft  meaning 
kindness  on  Miss  Burney,  whose  eyes  were  fixed  on 
the  floor.  This  convinced  me,  if  I  had  needed  con 
viction,  that  the  Queen  intended  the  allusion  she  had 
made  to  Colonel  Digby,  and  there  had  been  a  some 
thing  in  her  tone,  indescribable  but  audible,  which 
indicated  disapproval.  I  considered  myself  that  the 
man  had  quite  as  much  encouragement  as  he  needed 
if  his  intentions  were  serious.  I  could  not  make  him 
out.  There  were  times  when  I  saw  a  growing  inter 
est  in  Miss  Burney,  and  he  indeed  haunted  her 
parlour ;  yet  was  I  assured  that  in  London  he  was  as 
siduous  in  waiting  on  Miss  Gunning  —  a  young  lady 
with  every  advantage  of  fortune,  beauty,  and  connec 
tion.  I  own  the  thought  sometimes  occurred  to  me 
that  he  might  be  that  most  despicable  of  characters  — 
a  male  flirt.  I  had  thoughts  sometimes  also  of  a 
word  of  warning  to  Miss  Burney,  but  was  restrained 
by  fear  of  her  displeasure. 

Two  days  later  Colonel  Manners  and  Colonel 
Digby  waited  on  us  to  tea,  Mr  de  la  Giffardiere  fol 
lowing.  Colonel  Digby  wore  his  Vice-Chamberlain's 
uniform,  being  to  wait  on  the  Queen,  and  a  very 
handsome  sight  he  made,  adding  all  the  advantages 


200  "THE  LADIES!" 

of  birth  and  breeding  to  extreme  good  looks.  Miss 
Burney,  with  a  pleasure  she  could  not  conceal,  found 
the  conversation  turn  to  "Evelina."  Colonel  Man 
ners  praised  it  in  his  gay  light-hearted  way,  and  de 
clared  its  special  glory  in  his  eyes  to  be  the  character 
of  Captain  Mirvan.  He  asserted  it  was  that  which 
gave  rise  to  the  suspicion  that  the  author  was  a  man, 
since  a  lady  could  scarcely  be  supposed  capable  of 
drawing  a  portrait  of  such  vulgarity  in  such  bold 
strokes.  I  now  saw  Miss  Burney  wavering  whether 
to  receive  this  as  compliment  or  insult,  when  immedi 
ately  Colonel  Manners,  whom  no  awe  can  check, 
broke  out  into  Dibdin's  song,  applying  it,  as  it  were, 
to  Captain  Mirvan :  — 

I  've  a  spanking  wife  at  Portsmouth  Gates, 

A  pigmy  at  Goree. 
An  orange-tawny  up  the  Straits, 

A  black  at  St.  Lucie. 
Thus  whatsomedever  course  I  bend 

I  lead  a  jovial  life  — 

Miss  Burney  rose  indignantly,  and  the  more  so  as 
Mr  de  la  Giffardiere,  who  could  never  resist  the  ab 
surd,  was  applauding  vehemently,  and  even  Colonel 
Digby  smiling.  She  cast  one  awful  glance  upon  the 
offender,  and  was  quitting  the  room,  when  Colonel 
Digby  threw  himself  in  front  of  the  door. 

"Miss  Burney  shall  not  deprive  us  of  the  happiness 
of  her  company  without  a  word  of  entreaty,"  said 
he,  fixing  his  eyes  upon  hers,  "My  friend  Manners 
would  be  the  first  to  deplore  having  offended  the 
delicacy  of  any  lady,  and  especially  that  lady  whose 


A  BLUESTOCKING  AT  COURT  201 

genius  created  Captain  Mirvan.  But  Miss  Burney 
will  condescend  upon  forgiveness  when  she  hears  he 
has  been  sharing  His  Majesty's  barley  water  after  a 
day's  hunting.  It  always  goes  to  his  head  with  most 
boisterous  results." 

It  was  drolly  said,  indeed,  though  with  his  usual 
languor,  and  no  other  intervention  would  have 
stopped  the  exit.  She  graciously  consented  to  return 
to  her  seat,  and  Colonel  Manners  immediately  and 
absurdly  fell  on  his  knees  before  her,  offering  to  kiss 
her  shoe  like  the  Pope's,  if  she  would  but  pardon  him. 

"Alas,  I  was  compelled  to  drink  the  barley  water, 
Ma'am.  I  think  it  right  to  be  civil  to  the  King, 
though  Heaven  knows  a  violent  drink  like  that  is  not 
what  one  should  prefer  after  a  hard  day's  hunting. 
I  had  chose  something  milder,  had  it  been  in  my 
power." 

She  smiled  faintly,  and  Colonel  Digby,  visibly  to 
please  her,  uttered  a  very  handsome  praise  of  "Ce 
cilia,"  specially  dwelling  on  the  chapter  of  the  Opera 
Rehearsal.  Her  eyes  followed  his  every  movement. 
I  perceived  but  too  well  the  growing  interest,  and 
pitied  the  poor  lady  were  her  feelings  to  be  deeply 
engaged ;  for  I  believed  he  turned  his  melancholy  to 
as  good  account  with  others  as  with  herself.  I  could 
not  but  note  how  his  visits  to  her  were  made  at  times 
when  he  could  almost  count  upon  finding  her  alone. 
If  his  intentions  were  serious,  all  was  well.  Other 
wise  I  could  not  approve  it. 

"Miss  Burney  is  so  evidently  the  Muse  of  Com 
edy,"  cried  Mr  de  la  Giffardiere,  "that  I  wonder  you, 


"THE  LADIES!" 

Manners,  and  you,  Digby,  do  not  fear  her  ironic  pen. 
What  if  she  record  this  scene  in  the  third  volume,  for 
which  all  the  world  attends !  There  are  only  two 
persons  who  will  emerge  with  grace  —  Miss  P.  and 
myself.  We  tread  on  awful  ground  with  a  lady  so 
gifted." 

Mrs  Schwellenberg  now  made  her  appearance,  and 
the  talk  changed,  with  Colonel  Manners  gravely  en 
quiring  after  the  health  of  her  pet  frogs,  and  the 
gentlemen  shortly  after  left,  a  circumstance  not  very 
pleasing  to  her. 

"What  for  they  always  —  what  you  call  —  run 
away  when  I  come?"  she  cried.  "I  like  it  not.  Or 
if  he  stay,  —  that  Colonel  Manner,  —  he  sleep  ! 
Sleeps  he  with  you,  Miss  Burney  ?  He  sleep  always 
with  me.  It  is  not  to  bear !" 

We  could  not  forbear  laughing,  and  it  was  good- 
humouredly  taken. 

The  cloud  of  fearful  blackness  which  was  to  over 
shadow  the  nation  soon  broke  upon  us  in  His  Maj 
esty's  illness.  I  had  for  some  time  suspicion  that  all 
was  not  well.  It  was  his  habit  to  talk  with  most  con 
descending  frankness  to  all  whom  he  trusted,  and  I, 
as  an  old  servant,  had  the  happiness  to  be  thus  hon 
oured.  It  could,  therefore,  be  no  secret  to  me  that 
his  mind  was  often  agitated  in  the  highest  degree 
about  public  matters,  and  to  my  thinking  had  never 
recovered  its  tone  since  the  disasters  with  regard  to 
his  American  colonies.  His  outward  fortitude  was 
astonishing  at  the  time  of  the  rebellion ;  but  it  preyed 
inwardly  and  undoubtedly  was  the  first  and  most 


A  BLUESTOCKING  AT  COURT  203 

galling  link  in  the  chain  of  misfortune  which  sur 
rounded  him  from  private  and  public  sources.  I 
have  been  told  on  high  authority  that  the  falling  of 
the  largest  diamond  from  the  Crown  on  the  Corona 
tion  Day  was  a  prognostic  which  His  Majesty  sup 
posed  awfully  fulfilled  when  those  rebellious  colonies 
broke  away  from  his  sceptre. 

It  is  not  in  my  power,  as  it  would  not  be  my  duty, 
to  give  an  account  of  circumstances  which  involved 
the  whole  nation  in  mourning  when  it  beheld  the 
reason  of  its  Monarch  eclipsed.  Be  mine  rather  the 
female  task  to  describe  how  it  affected  the  celebrated 
lady  who  is  the  subject  of  these  notes. 

All  then  was  confusion,  and  the  habits  of  the  Royal 
family  so  intermitted,  whether  at  Windsor  or  Kew, 
that  those  attached  to  the  household  came  and  went 
as  they  pleased,  although  the  strictest  inquisition  fol 
lowed  all  that  was  allowed  to  pass  outside  the  walls, 
lest  reports  adverse  to  His  Majesty's  health  should 
reach  the  party  of  the  Princes,  his  sons,  who  caught 
eagerly  at  any  facts  they  might  distort  in  a  way  to 
gain  the  Regency  for  the  dissolute  Prince  of  Wales, 
and  cast  the  Queen  completely  into  his  power.  It  so 
happened  that  one  day  I  was  seated  to  my  knotting 
behind  the  Japan  screen  in  the  parlour  apportioned 
by  the  Prince  to  Her  Majesty  at  Kew.  My  knotting 
had  fallen  on  my  knee  as  I  gazed  pensively  at  the 
prospect  of  oaks  and  beeches  in  all  their  verdure,  when 
I  heard  voices,  and  Her  Majesty  and  the  Princess 
Royal  entered,  talking  earnestly  as  if  continuing  a 
conversation. 


204  "THE  LADIES!" 

"Mama,  I  do  indeed  think  the  news  is  true,  and 
if  so  you  will  desire  that  we  should  soon  give  Colonel 
Digby  joy.  It  is  not  absolutely  certain  — " 

Here  I  stepped  forth  from  behind  the  screen,  curt 
seying  deeply.  The  notion  in  my  mind  was  that 
Colonel  D.  had  announced  his  coming  engagement 
with  Miss  Burney.  He  had  visited  her  sedulously 
during  the  King's  illness,  and,  I  might  add,  some 
what  in  defiance  of  Her  Majesty's  hints  to  that  lady, 
and  had  brought  his  little  son  more  than  once  to  visit 
her  —  a  step  which  could  not  but  appear  very  partic 
ular. 

The  Queen  saw  me  advance  with  her  usual  gracious 
composure,  and  the  Princess  greeted  me  charmingly. 
She  wore  a  morning  negligee  embroidered  all  over 
with  roses,  and  looked  what  she  was  —  the  Rose  of 
England. 

"You  have  appeared  at  an  opportune  moment, 
Miss  P.,"  said  Her  Majesty.  "The  matter  in  hand  is 
one  where  I  rely  on  your  discretion.  Princess  Royal, 
inform  Miss  P.  of  what  you  have  heard." 

She  took  her  seat,  and  the  sweet  Princess,  stand 
ing  behind  her  mother's  chair,  related  to  me  with 
her  own  artless  candour  that  she  had  heard,  from  a 
source  which  she  did  not  give,  though  unimpeacha 
ble,  that  an  engagement  subsisted  or  shortly  might 
subsist  between  Colonel  Digby  and  Miss  Gunning, 
and  she  thought  —  she  feared  — 

Here  she  hesitated  in  the  most  pleasing  manner.  I 
now  fully  understood,  but  it  became  me  to  remain 
silent  and  hear  the  Queen's  pleasure.  My  beloved 


A  BLUESTOCKING  AT  COURT  205 

Queen  spoke  presently  and  even  —  marvellous  to 
relate  —  with  a  touch  of  the  gentle  archness  which  so 
adorned  her  before  His  Majesty's  all-overshadowing 
malady.  Her  fortitude  was  astonishing. 

"My  good  Miss  P.,  you  have  heard  the  Princess 
Royal,  and  I  am  full  sure  the  announcement  you  ex 
pected  was  of  a  kind  far  nearer  home.  Am  I  wrong  ?  " 

I  hurriedly  said  I  had  indeed  expected  and  hoped  — 
Her  Majesty  would  pardon  my  confusion.  I  scarce 
knew  what  I  was  saying,  for  it  rushed  on  my  mind 
that,  if  this  were  true,  the  effect  on  Miss  Burney's 
health  and  spirits  might  be  serious  —  his  attentions 
having  been  so  public. 

"I  have  noticed  and  heard  how  frequent  Colonel 
Digby's  visits  to  her  have  been,"  continued  Her 
Majesty;  "and  if  this  has  reached  me,  it  is  certain 
that  others  must  have  felt  his  attentions  to  be  par 
ticular.  I  cannot  acquit  him." 

"Nor  I,  Ma'am,"  I  cried  eagerly,  and  interrupted 
myself  in  such  a  breach  of  etiquette.  She  proceeded 
composedly :  — 

"I  believe  Colonel  Digby  is  frequently  with  Miss 
Burney.  You  have  the  same  impression,  Princess 
Royal?" 

The  fair  Princess  softly  murmured  that  she  had. 
I  could  not  but  suspect  Mrs  Schwellenberg  the  in 
formant,  nor  yet  blame  her.  All  must  depend  upon 
the  colouring  given. 

"Colonel  Digby's  confidential  favour  with  us  all 
disappoints  me  the  more  in  the  course  he  has  taken," 
continued  the  Queen.  "There  has  been  a  touch  of 


206  "THE  LADIES!" 

something  insincere.  And  I  have  heard  also  that 
the  poor  Schwellenberg  is  left  entirely  to  herself  while 
these  visits  take  place.  I  thought  this  hard  and  so 
dropped  a  hint  to  Miss  Burney,  which  I  failed  not  to 
see  was  resented.  Have  you,  my  good  Miss  P., 
observed  anything  of  this  ?  " 

Catching  the  encouraging  eye  of  the  Princess,  I 
ventured  to  say  I  was  not  wholly  a  stranger  to  the 
fact  that  Mrs  Schwellenberg  felt  herself  somewhat 
dropped  out  in  these  visits,  so  agreeable  to  the  gentle 
man.  Miss  Burney  I  alluded  not  to. 

"Another  hint  I  offered,"  proceeded  the  Queen, 
"when  my  hair  was  dressing  one  night,  and  I  was 
informed  the  Schwellenberg  was  very  unwell  and 
needed  company,  but  found  Miss  Burney  was  en 
gaged  as  usual  with  Colonel  Digby.  I  asked  Miss 
Burney,  without  leading  up  to  the  subject,  whether 
he  had  been  here.  She  coloured  very  high  and  ad 
mitted  it  and,  on  further  questioning,  displayed  a 
knowledge  of  all  his  movements  which  I  own  sur 
prised  me,  especially  on  her  complaining  of  the  want 
of  variety  here  —  a  fact  that  made  any  visitor  wel 
come,  as  she  told  me." 

"Can  it  be  possible,  Ma'am,"  I  cried,  "that  at  this 
time  of  universal  sorrow,  Miss  Burney  should  so  far 
forget  the  cruel  facts  as  to  reproach  — J: 

I  was  softly  interrupted  in  my  turn. 

"I  am  far  from  blaming  Miss  Burney,"  said  the 
amiable  Queen.  "It  has  been  a  time  of  gloom  for  all. 
I  am  only  considering,  from  these  circumstances  and 
others  I  could  name,  how  sharp  and  severe  may  be 


A  BLUESTOCKING  AT  COURT  207 

her  disappointment  when  she  hears  the  news  which 
has  reached  the  Princess  Royal." 

Such  goodness  did,  I  confess,  moisten  my  eyes,  for 
had  I  been  the  commentator,  I  might  have  been 
tempted  to  say  that  any  little  coquetries  were  mis 
placed  at  a  time  of  national  grief,  and  especially  so  in 
Miss  Burney,  whose  extreme  sensibility,  somewhat 
paraded  in  words,  was  in  its  highest  flight  as  re 
garded  the  King's  health.  Only  that  morning  she 
had  cried  out :  — 

"What  must  be  the  guilt  of  that  implacable  coun 
try  which,  in  breaking  away  from  his  mild  majestic 
sway,  sowed  the  seeds  of  the  malady  which  reduced 
the  best  of  kings  and  men  to  a  condition  where  this 
fell  disease  could  prey  upon  his  overcharged  heart 
and  brain !  Surely  the  blessing  which  disowns  its 
present  cannot  attend  its  future  !" 

But  this  is  a  digression. 

"What  we  are  to  consider,  Miss  P.,"  said  the  be 
nignant  Queen,  "is  how  best  to  hint  this  news  to  Miss 
Burney  so  that  her  mind  may  be  gradually  accus 
tomed.  It  is  to  be  remembered  that,  in  her  confined 
home  circle,  she  can  have  met  but  few  so  distinguished 
and  eligible  as  Colonel  Digby.'  I  am  perhaps  not 
wholly  free  of  blame  from  having  introduced  her  to 
so  new  a  sphere.  I  never  contemplated  that  she 
would  so  soon  liberate  herself  from  the  control  of  the 
Schwellenberg. " 

Gracious  Powers !  I,  who  had  once  accidentally 
heard  Miss  Burney  term  Mrs  S.  "Cerbera,"  could 
have  told  Her  Majesty  that  Miss  Burney  was  the 


208  "THE  LADIES!" 

last  person  in  the  world  to  permit  Mrs  S.,  or  any 
other  person  in  the  world,  to  control  her,  as  might 
appear  by  her  rejoinders  to  Her  Majesty  herself. 

"If,"  said  the  Princess,  interposing  with  a  gentle 
civility,  "  such  a  hint  could  be  dropped  to  Miss  Bur- 
ney,  it  might  spare  her  much  pain.  She  is  so  gifted 
-  so  high-strung  —  " 

"We  leave  it  to  your  good  heart,"  said  the  Queen. 
"  We  wish  all  that  is  good  to  Miss  Burney .  You  will 
see  I  cannot  commit  it  to  the  Schwellenberg.  These 
literary  ladies  have  high  flights,  I  believe,  and  are  a 
more  fragile  porcelain  than  ordinary  folks.  Do  your 
best,  my  good  Miss  P.,  and  I  shall  be  well  satisfied." 

The  Princess  sweetly  requested  permission  to  retire 
with  me  and  we  were  about  to  withdraw,  when  the 
Duchess  of  Ancaster  entered,  and  the  Queen  informed 
her  of  Colonel  Digby's  supposed  engagement.  The 
Duchess  laughed  with  all  her  own  humour. 

"What,  Ma'am?  Miss  Gunning?  No,  surely 
Miss  Burney !  I  am  Miss  Burney's  advocate  as 
regards  her  just  rights  and  claims.  Miss  Gunning 
is  but  an  interloper. 

"I  will  wager  that  Miss  Burney  at  last  secures 
Colonel  Digby,  whatever  his  struggles.  He  is  but  a 
bird  hovering  a  few  inches  above  the  charming  ser 
pent's  jaws,  which  are  open  to  receive  him.  I  know 
not  how  our  sex  has  ever  acquired  the  reputation  of 
flight,  for  it  has  ever  appeared  to  me  that  apparent 
flight  was  but  a  feint  to  encourage  pursuit  not  other 
wise  forthcoming.  Believe  me,  Ma'am,  that  your 
Majesty  will  yet  see  Colonel  Digby  overtaken 


A  BLUESTOCKING  AT  COURT  209 

and  captured  by  the  united  arts  of  'Evelina'  and 
'  Cecilia.5" 

"  Come,  Duchess,"  said  Her  Majesty,  with  the  little 
arch  smile  she  sometimes  wears;  "you  would  not 
have  us  believe  the  Duke  made  a  very  desperate  race 
of  it,  would  you?" 

"Indeed,  Ma'am,!  did  my  part  as  well  as  others," 
the  kind  Duchess  said,  laughing,  "and  but  for  my 
efforts,  who  knows  what  indiscretion  he  might  have 
committed?  Do  but  consider  the  late  marriages 
made  by  noble  lords  who  shall  be  nameless !  Miss 
Burney  probably  is  Colonel  Digby's  destined  saviour, 
or  so  believes  herself." 

So  the  lively  lady  rattled  on,  until  I  withdrew, 
following  the  Princess. 

"Pray  do  your  best,  Miss  P.,"  she  whispered  softly 
at  the  door.  "I  feel  for  poor  Miss  Burney  —  I  do 
indeed.  Colonel  Digby  has  been  so  particular  in  his 
attentions.  And  her  health  is  never  strong." 

She  sighed  as  she  glided  off  to  join  the  Princess 
Elizabeth  for  their  sketching-lesson.  Sure  never  was 
such  a  bouquet  of  beauty  and  warm  hearts  as  these 
Royal  sisters !  I  know  not  which  I  can  distinguish 
more  than  another,  though  perhaps  the  Princess 
Royal  is  my  pattern  for  all  that  is  excellent  and 
sweet. 

I  took  my  doubting  way  to  Miss  Burney's  parlour. 
She  was  writing,  as  was  her  wont.  If  it  were  not 
another  novel,  it  must  have  been  a  daily  mass  of 
information  to  her  friends.  In  all  she  did  seemed  a 
little  mystery  that  promoted  not  the  unreserve  so 


210  "THE  LADIES!" 

essential  to  friendship.  Perhaps  it  might  be  a  part 
of  the  profession  of  a  writer  of  fiction ;  but  it  made 
itself  felt. 

She  looked  up  smilingly. 

"Pray  take  a  seat,  Miss  P.  I  hope  your  gratifying 
entry  is  with  good  news  of  that  precious  health  on 
which  Britain  hangs.  I  hear  this  black  cloud  begins 
to  turn  its  silver  edges." 

I  agreed,  and  she  then  spoke  of  cheerful  details 
she  had  had  from  Lady  Charlotte  Finch.  It  ap 
peared  that  there  were  now  much  longer  intervals  of 
rational  quiet.  He  had  alluded  to  public  matters 
with  a  piety  and  reason  the  most  exalted,  which 
moved  all  who  heard  almost  to  tears.  Oh,  that  those 
rebellious  subjects  beyond  the  ocean  could  have 
heard  their  Monarch !  Yet  why  should  this  be  my 
aspiration  when  there  were  rebels,  and  filial  ones, 
close  at  hand,  to  rejoice  in  his  misfortune ! 

I  was  about  to  reply  when  the  door  opened  without 
knocking,  and  Colonel  Digby  glided  in,  with  the 
words :  — 

"How  does  Miss  Burney  ?  May  a  friend,  a  friend 
of  the  faithfulest,  enter  to  make  his  enquiries?" 

He  did  not  perceive  me  behind  the  opened  door. 
Miss  Burney  blushed  visibly,  and  instantly  seeing 
me,  he  bowed  with  his  own  finished  good-breeding 
and  no  sign  of  discomposure.  I  sat,  as  it  were  on 
thorns,  until,  Mr  Smelt  entering  later,  the  talk  be 
came  general  and  I  retreated,  more  and  more  con 
fused  at  the  part  expected  of  me,  especially  as  Colonel 
Digby's  manner  appeared  as  softly  ingratiating  as 


A  BLUESTOCKING  AT  COURT 

ever.  I  felt  I  should  be  compelled  to  sink  the  truth 
a  while  longer  and  could  only  hope  the  Princess  Royal 
misinformed. 

The  coolness  between  Miss  Burney  and  Mrs 
Schwellenberg  about  this  time  began  to  be  much 
warmed  by  many  little  kindnesses  on  the  part  of 
the  latter  as  she  observed  Miss  Burney's  somewhat 
careworn  brow.  It  has  since  been  confided  to  me 
that  the  account  given  of  her  by  Miss  Burney  to 
her  friends  was  one  of  uncontrolled  malignity ;  but 
though  my  testimony  is  humble,  it  is  sincere,  and  I 
can  describe  Mrs  Schwellenberg,  apart  from  her 
acknowledged  devotion  to  her  Royal  Mistress,  as 
possessing  a  much  more  kindly  heart  than  Miss 
Burney  would  consent  to  allow  her.  Her  imperfect 
knowledge  of  English  often  did  her  an  injustice  and 
made  it  easy  to  be  witty  at  her  expense.  While  she 
thought  she  saw  Miss  Burney  inflated  with  the  pride 
of  a  caressed  and  flattered  author,  and  rebelling  at 
the  necessary  restrictions  of  court  life,  she  certainly 
was  watchful  and  sometimes  disapproving;  but  in 
the  time  of  trouble  she  opened  out  into  an  attention 
which  Miss  Burney's  candour  should  have  grate 
fully  owned. 

Time  went  on.  Our  beloved  King  recovered  the 
use  of  his  invaluable  senses,  thus  escaping  the  snares 
set  for  him  and  the  Queen  by  enemies  the  most 
difficult  to  subdue.  This  enabled  us  to  return  in 
triumph  to  Windsor  —  in  triumph,  do  I  say?  No, 
but  ecstasy  —  a  kind  of  rapture  which  pervaded  the 
whole  nation,  excepting  the  party  of  the  Opposition. 


"THE  LADIES!" 

The  inhabitants  of  every  place  we  passed  flooded 
out  to  greet  their  King.  The  people,  stirred  as  by 
an  earthquake,  broke  upon  him  in  a  wave  of  loyalty ; 
and  we,  who  almost  adored  him  for  his  private 
benignity  and  public  virtues,  seemed  swept  away 
in  the  torrent.  As  for  the  Queen,  what  joy  sat  upon 
her  sweet  but  wearied  countenance,  as  she  turned 
her  eyes,  swimming  in  tears,  upon  him  who  was  the 
centre  of  all  rejoicing ! 

I  never  came  so  near  loving  Miss  Burney  as  when 
one  day,  in  walking  with  Her  Majesty's  little  dogs, 
Badine  and  Phillis,  in  the  Park,  she  broke  out  into 
feelings  warmly  expressed  of  her  sense  of  what  the 
Queen's  conduct  had  been  during  the  scenes  of  agony 
we  had  witnessed.  For  once  she  forgot  herself 
nobly,  and  I  shall  never  forget  her  countenance  as 
she  paused  and  said  :  — 

"Indeed,  Miss  P.,  when  I  consider  Her  Majesty's 
complicated  suffering,  —  increased  as  it  was  to 
misery  by  attacks  from  quarters  whence  only  love 
and  duty  might  have  been  expected,  harassed  by 
politics  and  cabals,  torn  by  national  and  foreign 
dissension,  herself  deprived  of  all  protection,  and  yet 
protecting  with  almost  masculine  fortitude  a  beloved 
husband  and  King,  —  I  say  with  all  my  heart  that 
to  have  attained  such  heights  of  courage,  resignation, 
and  ability,  is  much,  much  more  than  to  be  Queen  of 
England,  or  possessed  of  the  most  shining  genius  the 
world  has  known.  I  bow  the  knee  in  spirit  as  in 
body  before  a  Mistress  so  truly  Royal." 

The  generous  fire  in  her  voice  was  quenched  by  the 


A  BLUESTOCKING  AT  COURT  213 

tears  in  her  eyes.  I  grasped  her  hand,  but  could  not 
reply.  Here  was  indeed  the  cry  of  sincerity.  We 
walked  pensively  for  some  time  in  the  shrubberies, 
and  ended  our  airing  on  the  great  terrace. 

How  exquisitely  pastoral,  yet  soul-stirring,  is  the 
view  from  that  majestic  height !  The  towers  of 
Windsor  Castle  behind  us  breathing  of  the  historic 
past ;  the  Thames  unrolling  its  silver  windings  below ; 
the  meadows;  the  roofs  of  Eton  College  lifting 
through  the  veil  of  foliage  —  can  aught  on  earth 
surpass  it?  A  distant  sound  of  cheering  from  the 
Eton  playing-fields  reached  us,  to  announce  that 
some  young  votary  of  athletic  games  had  reached 
his  goal.  Over  all  floated  the  sunshine.  Why  seek 
foreign  shores  for  recreation  which  these  sylvan 
bowers,  so  richly  charged  with  memories  of  departed 
greatness,  afford  to  all? 

A  quick  step  on  the  gravel  roused  me  from  these 
thoughts  and,  turning,  I  saw  Colonel  Digby  pro 
ceeding  quickly  to  the  Queen's  Lodge.  To  my 
astonishment  he  only  bowed  hurriedly  and  went 
on  his  way  without  a  word.  Miss  Burney  looked 
the  amazement  she  naturally  felt;  and  it  flashed 
across  my  mind  that  here  might  be  the  long-sought 
opportunity.  I  seized  it  with  a  beating  heart. 

"We  have  seen  but  little  of  Colonel  Digby  since 
the  King's  recovery,"  said  I. 

"Oh,"  she  replied  nervously,  "you  know  the  King's 
attachment  to  him,  and  also  the  Queen's;  they  im 
pose  on  him  many  important  errands  to  London. 
We  cannot  expect  —  I  should  be  the  last  —  " 


214  "THE  LADIES!" 

She  paused. 

"He  has  many  friends  in  London,"  I  ventured. 

"Certainly.  A  disposition  so  generous,  affection 
ate,  and  kind  must  be  entitled  to  all  the  blessings  of 
friendship." 

"And  even  warmer  sentiments  -     '  I  hesitated. 

She  turned  her  face  from  me,  but  I  could  see  the 
perturbation.  I  would  not  for  the  world  that  she 
should  misconceive  me  then.  Though  feeling  to  the 
full  the  difficulty  of  my  position,  I  tried  to  turn  it 
lightly. 

"There  is  one  fair  lady  in  London  who  is  said  to 
have  a  warmer  interest  in  His  Majesty's  recovery, 
since  it  enables  Colonel  Digby  to  be  more  constant 
in  his  attendance." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence. 

"You  allude  to  Miss  Gunning,"  she  replied  coldly. 
"On  the  few  occasions  I  have  seen  her  I  have  thought 
her  so  cool  in  her  likings  and  sentiments,  so  self- 
sufficient,  that  I  could  not  think  her  attractive  to  a 
nature  so  warm  as  Colonel  Digby's.  Nor  do  I  think 
her  mental  attainments  such  as  to  render  a  real 
friendship  possible  between  them." 

"It  is  difficult,"  I  breathed,  "to  name  the  qualities 
which  attract  the  other  sex.  But  I  have  heard  cer 
tain  rumours  to  the  effect  that  Colonel  Digby  finds 
Miss  Gunning  attractive." 

She  flashed  her  eyes  on  me  with  a  kind  of  indignant 
scorn,  as  if  suspecting  some  meaner  motive  in  what 
I  said,  and  coolly  consulted  her  watch. 

"I  too  have  heard  those  rumours  and  their  denial. 


A  BLUESTOCKING  AT  COURT  215 

We  must  return,  though  I  am  loath  to  quit  this  en 
chanting  scene.  Shall  I  leave  you,  or  shall  we  return 
together?" 

We  walked  in  silence,  I  feeling  I  had  miserably 
failed  in  my  commission,  and  she  discoursing  of  the 
national  fetes  in  prospect,  in  a  way  which  bespoke 
her  hurry  of  spirits. 

A  few  days  later,  Colonel  Gwynn  came  into  waiting, 
and  told  us  Colonel  Digby  was  taken  ill  in  London 
and  could  not  hope  to  resume  his  duties  for  some  time. 
I  saw  the  concern  on  Miss  Burney's  face.  We  all 
shared  it  in  a  measure  but,  alas,  her  pallor  showed 
but  too  well  how  deep  the  shaft  had  pierced. 

I  was  present  that  evening  when  she  was  in  atten 
dance  on  the  Queen.  Her  Majesty,  rousing  herself 
from  thought,  said  somewhat  abruptly  :  — 

"I  am  much  displeased  with  Colonel  Digby" 
(instancing  her  reasons  and  adding)  :  "He  will  not 
come  here.  He  has  set  his  mind  against  coming. 
For  some  reason  he  cannot  bear  it.  He  has  been 
in  London  in  perfect  health,  and  I  have  it  on  good 
authority  that  he  desired  it  might  not  be  told  here." 

I  dared  scarcely  glance  at  Miss  Burney.  She  was 
perfectly  white  and  stood  with  her  eyes  fixed  on  the 
ground.  The  Queen,  seeing  she  had  alarmed  us, 
glided  with  her  benignant  grace  into  another  subject. 
I,  who  knew  her  mind,  could  perceive  what  was 
intended ;  but  to  Miss  Burney  it  must  have  been  a 
thunderbolt. 

Next  morning  the  Princess  Royal,  coming  to  my 
room,  lovely  in  her  flowered  sacque,  and  without  her 


216  "THE  LADIES!" 

hoop,  her  curls  twisted  with  rose-hued  ribbons, 
seemed  to  cast  a  radiance  before  her.  She  paused 
at  the  door,  and  said  condescendingly:  "May  I 
come  in?" 

I  hastened  to  set  her  a  chair,  and  after  a  little  in 
different  discourse  she  said  with  a  touch  of  melan 
choly  :  — 

"I  think  Miss  Burney  has  not  been  fairly  treated. 
It  is  the  Queen's  opinion  that  Colonel  Digby's  con 
science  prevents  his  coming  hither.  We  are  to  offer 
our  formal  congratulations  to  him  and  Miss  Gunning 
at  the  Drawing-Room.  I  own  I  shall  present  mine 
with  very  little  heart.  Do  you  not  think,  Miss  P., 
that  the  poor  lady  should  be  told  the  truth?  It 
might  come  as  a  shock,  but  would  be  best  from  a 
friend  like  yourself.  If  all  else  failed,  I  would  gladly 
do  it.  But  indeed,  I  dare  not." 

I  implored  Her  Royal  Highness  not  to  put  herself 
out.  I  would  be  the  messenger. 

"That  Miss  Burney  should  have  been  given  any 
pain  under  our  roof,  and  by  one  connected  with  our 
service,  is  very  painful  to  mama,  who  fully  values 
Miss  Burney's  gifts  of  the  mind,"  added  the  beloved 
Princess.  "If  it  is  to  be  done,  however,  there  is  no 
time  like  the  present,  for  the  news  is  now  very  gen 
erally  known." 

She  left  me,  and  with  a  trembling  step  I  rose  to 
seek  Miss  Burney's  room.  She  was  seated  by  the 
window,  a  large  black  hat  with  ostrich  plumes  shading 
her  face,  and  a  muslin  handkerchief  folded  across  the 
bosom.  I  had  never  seen  her  look  so  becoming. 


A  BLUESTOCKING  AT  COURT  217 

She  was  then  thirty-seven  or-eight  years  of  age,  as  I 
have  since  learned  (for  that  was  then  a  carefully 
guarded  secret),  but  did  not  look  near  so  much; 
and  her  expression,  intensely  absorbed,  had  the 
pensive  sweetness  of  a  day  in  autumn  ere  the  golden 
leaf  yet  flutters  to  its  fall. 

"Miss  Burney,"  I  said  timidly,  "I  believe  I  in 
trude,  but  may  I  ask  you  to  favour  me  with  the  copy 
of  verses  you  made  for  Her  Majesty  on  'The  Great 
Coat." 

This  was  graciously  granted,  and  a  seat  offered. 
A  light  conversation  ensued,  and  at  last,  summoning 
my  resolution,  I  said  :  — 

"We  are  soon  to  congratulate  an  old  friend  on  his 
approaching  nuptials.  Colonel  Digby — " 

She  turned  angrily,  but  restrained  herself  with  a 
distressing  effort.  I  continued:  "I  hear  his  engage 
ment  with  Miss  Gunning  is  confirmed." 

"I  too  have  heard  it,"  she  said  haughtily;  "I  am 
therefore  no  stranger  to  your  news." 

She  half  rose,  and  taking  the  hint  I  hurried  away, 
confident  that  she  believed  me  not  at  all.  I  met  the 
Princess  Royal  with  Princess  Augusta  on  my  way, 
and  they  stopped  me  eagerly. 

"Did  you  succeed,  Miss  P.?"  asked  each  fair 
sister,  with  such  sympathising  faces  as  made  me  love 
them  the  better,  if  that  were  possible.  The  elder 
Princess  shook  her  head  sadly. 

"Poor,  poor  lady!  I  fear  he  is  a  very  heartless 
man.  I  cannot  easily  forgive  this  treatment  of  one 
we  esteem." 


218  "THE  LADIES!" 

She  linked  her  arm  in  her  sister's,  and  the  two 
hurried  away  to  attend  the  Queen,  who  was  to  con 
sider  their  Drawing-Room  robes  just  then  inspecting. 

Willingly  would  I  have  softened  the  blow,  but  fall 
at  length  it  must!  After  the  Drawing-Room,  it 
became  known  to  Miss  Burney  that  Miss  Gunning 
had  attended  and  had  been  given  joy  by  all  the 
Princesses.  The  Princess  Royal  herself  breathed 
this,  with  a  voice  like  a  dove  and  her  eyes  consider 
ately  averted,  adding :  — 

"Miss  Gunning  was  most  elegant  in  a  dress  of 
purple  gauze  and  silver;  but  I  cannot  think  her 
beautiful,  though  some  find  her  manners  pleasing. 
Colonel  Digby  was  not  present." 

There  was  a  pause  and  then  Miss  Burney,  deplor 
ably  pale,  replied :  — 

"I  had  already  heard  this,  Ma'am.  I  believe  she 
is  thought  handsome.  The  Drawing-Room  must 
have  been  particularly  elegant  from  the  rejoicing 
crowds  who  would  wish  to  pay  their  duty." 

No  more  was  said  on  the  subject.  Later,  she 
complained  of  headache  to  me,  and  I,  breathing  it 
into  the  sympathising  ear  of  Her  Royal  Highness, 
Miss  Burney  was  recommended,  nay,  commanded 
to  return  to  her  room,  and  the  truly  amiable  Queen 
dispensed  with  her  attendance. 

The  marriage  took  place  in  due  course,  and  in  a 
private  house,  a  circumstance  which  met  with  Her 
Majesty's  warm  disapproval,  as  considering  that  a 
contract  so  solemn  needs  all  the  blessing  and  ratifica 
tion  imposed  at  such  times  by  the  church's  ordinance. 


A  BLUESTOCKING  AT  COURT  219 

During  all  this  time,  Colonel  Digby  did  not  appear 
at  Court,  though  whether  by  his  own  choice  or  the 
kind  concern  of  Her  Majesty,  I  cannot  tell.  Miss 
Burney  visibly  drooped  —  I  could  see  suffering 
written  on  her  face,  and  it  awoke  a  sympathy  which 
I  dared  not  offer.  The  Queen's  consideration  for  her 
increased,  and  the  lovely  Princesses  avoided  with  true 
delicacy  every  subject  which  could  recall  the  image 
of  the  past,  making  what  soft  amends  lay  in  their 
power. 

Yet  but  a  very  short  while  after,  will  it  be  believed 
that  Colonel  Digby  sent  his  bride  to  call  upon  Miss 
Burney,  having  himself  resumed  attendance  upon 
the  Court  immediately  after  his  marriage!  I  sin 
cerely  felt  for  Miss  Burney  when  a  bustle  was  heard 
and  before  us  there  appeared  the  bride,  glowing  in 
health  and  happiness,  and  dressed  in  the  last  perfec 
tion  of  the  milliner's  art.  Triumph,  visible  and  exult 
ant,  sat  on  her  brow ;  and  as  she  took  her  place  on 
the  sofa  by  Miss  Burney,  who  looked  wan  and  aged 
beside  so  much  splendour,  I  felt  it  would  have  de 
clared  a  better  heart  had  she  deferred  her  visit. 
Miss  Burney,  with  an  effort  of  courage,  parried  all 
the  speeches  which  could  hardly  fail  to  have  the 
appearance  of  thrusts,  and  undertook  to  deliver  the 
bride's  duty  to  the  Queen  with  a  calmness  which  did 
her  honour. 

I  have  more  than  once  in  my  life  seen  reason  to 
congratulate  myself  on  passing  through  life  un 
troubled  by  the  attentions  of  that  sex  which,  while 
the  blessing,  is  also  the  curse  of  our  own,  and  felt 


220  "THE  LADIES!" 

this  with  peculiar  energy  during  that  scene,  when 
I  saw  one  so  justly  celebrated,  triumphed  over  almost 
publicly  by  a  young  lady  whose  face  was  her  chief 
recommendation . 

I  concluded  that  we  should  soon  now  lose  Miss 
Burney  and  could  not  harshly  censure  (though  dis 
approving)  the  course  she  took  in  attributing  her 
waning  health  to  the  tyranny  of  Mrs  Schwellenberg 
and  even  to  the  hardships  of  her  attendance  on  the 
Queen.  Nevertheless,  Her  Majesty  more  than  once 
favoured  me  with  the  remark  :  — 

"Large  allowance  must  be  made  for  Miss  Burney. 
I  foresee  she  will  before  long  wish  to  be  among  the 
healing  influences  of  her  own  home  circle ;  and  as  I 
would  not  for  the  world  dismiss  her,  all  must  be  done 
on  the  foot  she  herself  chooses,  and  with  reluctance 
on  my  part.  I  know  her  good  sense  will  dictate  a 
commendable  course." 

Of  this  I  was  by  no  means  certain,  but  could,  of 
course,  make  no  rejoinder ;  and  Her  Majesty's  face, 
beneath  her  becoming  fly-cap,  beamed  with  a  true 
benevolence  as  she  pronounced  these  words.  I  have 
certain  knowledge  that  she  favoured  Mrs  Schwellen 
berg  also  with  this  injunction,  and  that  she  also 
exerted  herself  to  show  many  little  pleasing  atten 
tions  on  our  return  to  Windsor.  It  was  that  day 
Miss  Burney  came  in,  with  an  animation  to  which  she 
had  long  been  a  stranger,  to  say  she  had  met  Mr 
Boswell  —  friend  and  survivor  of  the  Great  Lexicog 
rapher —  near  St.  George's  Chapel,  on  his  way  to 
view  the  alterations,  and  he  had  arrested  her  steps. 


A  BLUESTOCKING  AT  COURT 

"It  was  like  a  breath  of  fresh  air  in  a  shut  room  !" 
she  cried;  "and  indeed  almost  too  much  for  my 
weak  health.  '0  Ma'am,'  he  said  with  energy, 
'  when  do  you  return  to  us  ?  You  must  resign  — 
you  must  indeed.  It  won't  do,  Ma'am.  We  can 
put  up  with  it  no  longer!'  I  laughed  and  stared, 
but  he  continued:  'We  shall  address  Dr  Burney 
in  a  body.  It  was  so  resolved  at  the  Club  last  week 
—  Charles  Fox  in  the  chair.  I  need  your  aid  in  my 
book  on  the  Great  Man,  soon  to  appear.  You  are  to 
lighten  the  picture.  In  my  hands  he  is  grave  Sam, 
great  Sam,  learned  Sam.  With  your  aid  we  will 
deck  him  with  all  the  graces.  He  shall  be  gay  Sam, 
agreeable  Sam,  and,  to  that  end,  I  claim  all  the  little 
pleasing  billets  he  has  written  to  your  fair  self.'  So 
he  rattled  on,  and  I  could  with  difficulty  extricate 
myself.  But,  O  Miss  P.,  though  your  goodness  will 
not  repeat  the  scene,  it  was  such  a  view  of  home  and 
its  surroundings  as  may  greet  the  returning  sailor 
when  his  country  rises  on  his  view." 

I  sympathised  and  venturesomely  said :  - 

"I  would  not  presume  to  counsel,  Miss  Burney, 
but  if  you  so  crave  for  your  family  and  friends,  were 
it  not  well  to  seek  their  healing  company?  None 
can  doubt  that  your  health  suffers  under  the  restraints 
of  court  life,  and  Miss  Burney 's  is  a  health  valuable 
to  the  world  at  large." 

I  ever  found  that  a  little  well-turned  compliment 
softened  her  sense  of  injury.  She  smiled  gratefully 
upon  me  and  was  silent;  then  softly  pressed  my 
hand. 


222  "THE  LADIES!" 

I  related  this  little  scene  to  the  tender-hearted 
Princess  Royal  who  took  the  pains  to  make  an 
opportunity  with  Miss  Burney,  when  we  were  in 
attendance  for  that  walk  on  the  Windsor  Terrace 
which  so  often  presented  the  Royal  Family  to  the 
view  of  a  delighted  people.  The  procession  was  not 
yet  formed,  Their  Majesties  not  having  appeared. 
She  detached  herself  from  her  group  of  sweet  sisters, 
holding  the  little  darling  Princess  Amelia  by  the 
hand,  and  said :  — 

"Are  you  fit  for  the  walk,  Miss  Burney?  You 
appear  tired  and  unwell.  Permit  me  to  make  your 
excuses  to  the  Queen." 

She  paused,  and  Miss  Burney  warmly  thanked  her 
and  said  tremblingly  that  she  believed  she  could 
support  herself  through  the  walk. 

"But  why?"  exclaimed  Her  Royal  Highness. 
"Indeed,  we  are  not  such  tyrants,  and  allow  me  to 
say,  my  dear  Miss  Burney,  that  if  you  should  feel  — 
should  think  you  need  a  long  rest  —  a  releasing  rest, 
there  need  be  no  hesitation  in  mentioning  it  to  the 
Queen." 

She  repeated  this  with  emphasis  and  glided  away. 
I  saw  Miss  Burney's  eyes  moisten  as  she  turned  and 
retreated. 

Events  now  succeeded  each  other  slowly  but  surely. 
The  Queen  had  with  reluctance  accepted  her  resig 
nation,  the  successor  had  been  found,  and  the  time 
drew  near  for  departure  when,  most  unexpectedly, 
my  whole  view  was  changed  with  regard  to  Miss 
Burney's  feelings. 


A  BLUESTOCKING  AT  COURT  223 

We  were  walking  in  the  Park  on  a  fine  sunny  day, 
having  chosen  the  Long  Walk  which  leads  to  the 
eminence  and  its  noble  prospect  of  the  Castle,  though 
scarcely  with  hope  of  reaching  it  so  slow  were  our 
footsteps.  I  had  led  the  talk  to  her  writings  and 
she  gave  me  some  interesting  particulars  of  the 
praise  "Evelina"  had  received  from  such  judges  as 
Mrs  Delany  and  the  Duchess  of  Portland,  who  agreed 
in  thinking  it  a  book  likely  to  do  more  good  than  any 
other  ever  published,  from  its  high  principles  wrapped 
in  a  glitter  of  entertainment.  This  was  a  subject 
on  which  she  never  wearied,  and  I  was  pressing  for 
its  continuance,  when  we  beheld  a  lady  approaching, 
leaning  on  a  gentleman's  arm  —  a  handsome  woman 
in  a  rich  pelerine  and  jewellery  —  and  with  a  start 
my  companion  caught  my  arm,  crying  softly :  "Mrs 
Thrale  —  Mrs  Piozzi.  Good  heavens  !  For  years 
we  have  not  met.  Oh,  could  we  escape." 

I  was  no  stranger  to  the  fact  that  they  had  been 
the  closest  friends  and  that  Mrs  Thrale's  most 
injudicious  marriage  with  a  Roman  Catholic  and 
a  foreigner  had  ruptured  the  friendship  on  Miss 
Burney's  very  proper  objection  to  such  an  alliance. 
It  is  known  how  society,  how  even  the  papers,  rung 
with  the  scandal  of  a  lady  of  birth  and  fortune  thus 
forgetting  what  was  due  to  herself  and  others.  And 
a  fresh  blaze  had  lately  been  kindled  by  the  publica 
tion  of  Dr  Johnson's  Letters  and  many  anecdotes 
relative  to  the  life  at  Streatham,  all  of  which  Miss 
Burney  had  entirely  disapproved.  I  could  not  sym 
pathise  with  Mrs  Thrale-Piozzi  —  impossible  that 


224  "THE  LADIES!" 

any  right-minded  person  should,  but  I  own  to  the 
deepest  curiosity  to  see  her,  and  above  all  to  wit 
ness  her  meeting  with  this  discarded  friend,  having 
understood  from  my  own  friends  that  feeling  run 
very  high  between  them.  Consequently  I  did  not 
hurry  my  steps. 

"For  Heaven's  sake,  hasten!"  cried  Miss  Burney. 
'  'T  is  Mr  Piozzi  himself.  Was  ever  anything  so 
mortifying !" 

Unfortunately  Mrs  Piozzi  heard  these  words  and 
recognised  the  speaker. 

"Mortify  not  yourself,  Miss  Burney,  I  entreat. 
Mr  Piozzi  is  obliged  to  hasten  into  Windsor  to 
bespeak  apartments  at  the  White  Hart.  Delay  not, 
Piozzi.  I  will  follow.  Do  I  see  my  Burney  in  good 
health?" 

I  was  never  so  affrighted  in  my  life.  The  lady, 
though  short,  had  such  an  air  of  resolution  and  her 
eyes  shot  such  lively  sparks  of  anger  hid  under  a 
show  of  good  humour  that  I  looked  to  see  Miss  Bur 
ney  sink  at  my  feet.  She  also  was  in  a  horrid  fright 
if  panting  breath  and  fading  cheeks  may  be  trusted. 
I  would  now  have  fled  but  she  detained  me  by  the 
hand  and  presented  me  to  a  sweeping  curtsey  from 
Mrs  Piozzi.  Doubtless  she  thought  my  presence 
would  confine  the  meeting  to  the  forms  of  politeness. 

Accustomed  to  courts,  I  could  not  consider  the 
lady  high-bred,  but  her  energy  and  intelligence  were 
overpowering. 

"I  have  not  seen  you  since  my  return,  dear 
Burney,"  says  she,  "but  am  glad  of  this  favourable 


A  BLUESTOCKING  AT  COURT 

opportunity  to  ask  if  what  I  have  been  told  is  true  — 
that  Baretti  was  inspired  and  abetted  in  his  attack 
on  my  marriage  by  friends  I  could  the  least  suspect. 
Pray  emulate  my  candour.  An  open  enemy  is  pref 
erable  to  a  stabbing  friend." 

"Surely,  Madam,  before  a  third  person — "  began 
Miss  Burney,  but  was  interrupted  :  — 

"I  have  learnt  to  know  a  witness  is  very  valuable 
on  occasion.  All  I  require  is  a  plain  'Yes5  or  'No." 

"Then  'No'  -  a  thousand  times  'No,'"  cried  Miss 
Burney  with  immense  spirit.  "I  know  nothing  of 
Baretti  —  would  know  nothing  —  a  violent  unprin 
cipled  man,  that  frightened  myself.  That  I  disap 
proved  your  marriage  is  known  - 

"And  on  what  impertinent  grounds  ! "  Mrs  Piozzi 
was  now  trembling  with  rage  —  and  as  pale  as  Miss 
Burney.  "Let  me  tell  you,  Madam,  that  a  gentle 
man  of  good  birth  is  not  to  be  despised,  and  his  means 
of  £1200  per  annum,  though  not  splendour  in  com 
parison  with  my  own  revenue,  set  him  above  all 
mercenary  imputation !" 

'T  was  with  the  greatest  effort  my  companion  now 
clung  to  her  cautious  decorum,  for  she  was  palpitating 
violently  as  she  held  to  my  arm. 

"Madam,  money  was  not  in  question.  A  woman 
who  will  marry  a  foreigner  and  a  Roman  Catholic,  in 
both  respects  her  country's  foe,  must  expect  - 

I  looked  for  an  explosion  but,  as  happens  when 
women  quarrel,  Mrs  Piozzi's  humour  took  the  most 
unexpected  turn.  She  laughed  :  — 

"Ah,  Fanny,  Fanny,  that  was  the  world's  voice. 


226  "THE  LADIES!" 

Time  was  you  loved  me  kindly ;  but  the  world  you 
always  did  and  will  love  reverentially.  Well  —  con 
tinue  !  —  't  is  worth  it.  The  world  has  its  prizes 
to  give  and  I  have  none  now.  I  did  not  even  provide 
a  husband  for  my  friend,  and  your  Royals  have  not 
been  more  successful  —  I  know  not  why.  The  day 
may  come  when  you  yourself  may  fall  back  on  a 
foreigner  and  Roman  Catholic,  and,  if  so,  may  he 
be  as  good  as  mine  and  may  you  live  as  happy  with 
him!" 

She  curtseyed  and  made  to  move  on.  I  thought 
of  this  later  when  Miss  Burney  married  M.  D'Arblay, 
a  Frenchman  and  Roman  Catholic.  I  wondered 
then  if  she  recalled  this  scene  and  her  own  strictures. 
She  bridled  with  dignity. 

"I  can  scarce  imagine  Dr  Burney's  daughter  doing 
the  like,  Madam.  My  tastes  are  all  English.  But 
is  it  well  to  prolong  this  talk  ?  Our  ways  of  life  are 
now  so  different  — 

"Truly  all  is  changed  —  and  you  with  it.  But 
I  was  ever  a  prophet,  Fanny,  and  I  venture  to  tell 
you  that  you  have  so  overloaded  your  heart  and  your 
wits  with  caution  and  fear  of  the  world's  opinion  that 
when  you  take  pen  in  hand  once  more  you  '11  find  it 
clogged  and  heavy.  'T  will  move  on  stilts  instead 
of  the  light  heels  that  danced  'Evelina,'  and  the 
ungrateful  world  will  say,  'There  goes  a  woman  that 
if  she  had  shut  her  eyes  on  forms  and  opened  them  on 
nature  had  been  the  glory  of  her  age.'  You  are  too 
fearful  of  the  world,  Fanny.  I  flew  in  its  face  and 
found  its  bark  worse  than  its  bite,  and  that  if 


A  BLUESTOCKING  AT  COURT  227 

you  kicked  it,  it  crawled  to  kiss  your  feet.  And  so 
now  good-bye." 

They  both  curtseyed  angrily,  and  Mrs  Piozzi  pro 
ceeded  quickly  down  the  drive,  then  suddenly  turned 
and  ran  back,  both  hands  outstretched :  — 

"Fanny,  Fanny,  I  can't — "  she  panted.  "It  all 
so  rose  on  me  with  the  sight  of  you.  My  master  at 
the  table,  and  Johnson  in  his  chair  booming  out  his 
wisdoms,  and  Burke,  and  poor  Goldie  —  Oh,  the  poor 
dead  days  —  the  sad  dead  days  —  and  you  a  part 
of  them  all ;  and  could  I  say  a  word  to  wound  you, 
no  matter  what  you  did  to  me !  You  that  were  a 
part  of  it  all  —  I  felt  as  if  I  would  kill  it  outright  if  I 
left  you  in  anger.  Can  one  kill  ghosts?  —  they  are 
but  ghosts,  and  yet  —  Oh,  Fanny !" 

She  held  out  her  shaking  hands.  I  knew  this 
shockingly  disordered  Miss  Burney's  notions  of  pro 
priety  and  that  a  lady  out  of  favour  with  the  great 
world  should  be  seen  by  me  thus  familiar  with  her, 
and  she  at  Court.  She  barely  touched  the  hand. 

"It  was  to  the  memory  of  those  days  your  friends 
looked  to  keep  you  in  a  becoming  path,"  said  she. 
"Indeed  I  share  your  affection  for  them,  but  to  re 
member  them  thus  — ' 

"Do  you  so?"  says  the  other  a  little  wildly,  and 
drawing  back  to  dash  the  tears  from  her  eyes.  "Then 
remember  them  your  way  and  I  '11  remember  them 
mine,  and  so  our  paths  go  east  and  west :  (then  turn 
ing  to  me,)  I  'm  sure  I  ask  your  pardon,  Ma'am,  for 
what  must  appear  so  declamatory  and  high-flown. 
We  Welsh  folk,  like  all  the  other  poor  Celts,  are 


228  "THE  LADIES!" 

allowed  romantic  flights  sometimes  to  make  sport 
for  the  sober  English.  Farewell,  Miss  Burney.  My 
best  compliments  and  respects  attend  your  father." 

She  ran  off  again  very  quick  and  tripping.  We 
stood  looking  after  her  till  Miss  Burney  spoke :  — 

"The  tenderness  I  had  and  have  for  her  is  not  to  be 
expressed  nor  compared  save  with  the  love  of  David 
for  Jonathan.  How  have  I  been  wounded !  Your 
self,  my  dear  Miss  P.,  is  a  witness  to  her  ungoverned 
passions.  Your  delicacy  will  not  prefer  to  entail  the 
misery  of  explanation  on  me." 

I  hurriedly  disclaimed  any  wish  to  pursue  the  sub 
ject,  and  she  was  silent  as  if  revolving  the  scene. 
But  why  should  I  now  hesitate  to  own  that  though 
all  the  propriety  of  speech  and  silence  had  been  on 
Miss  Burney's  side,  my  own  sympathies  were  en 
gaged  with  the  poor  lady.  I  thought  a  heart  that 
less  weighed  opinion  must  have  melted  at  her  appeal 
to  fond  memories,  gushing  warm  from  a  sensibility 
that  she  could  not  control.  Since  that  interview, 
when  I  have  heard  Mrs.  Piozzi  censured  I  could  com 
prehend  the  high  romantic  notion  with  which  she 
had  entered  on  her  marriage,  and  the  more  so,  since 
I  had  been  credibly  informed  that  Mr  Piozzi  was 
in  all  respects  admirable  could  he  but  have  had  the 
blessing  to  be  born  an  Englishman  and  Protestant. 

"Dear  Miss  P.,  I  trust  to  you  to  keep  this  painful 
meeting  a  secret,"  said  my  companion.  "I  know 
your  serious  and  respectable  character  too  well  to 
doubt  you  will  draw  the  veil  over  the  wild  ungov 
erned  temper  of  one  once  so  honoured." 


A  BLUESTOCKING  AT  COURT 

I  promised  and  reserved  my  thoughts  and  we 
turned  back  to  the  Castle.  But  the  events  of  this 
astonishing  walk  were  not  yet  at  an  end.  We  were 
nearing  the  gates  of  the  gardens,  when  we  saw  Colonel 
and  Mrs  Digby  beneath  the  trees  on  the  further  side. 
They  were  not  conversing  and  the  whole  width  of 
the  path  was  between  them.  It  gave  rightly  or 
wrongly  an  air  of  dissatisfaction,  of  weariness  in  each 
other's  company,  that  struck  me  as  instantly  as  it 
did  my  companion,  though  of  course  it  could  be  no 
surprise  to  see  them  where  all  the  Household  took 
their  airings  when  they  would.  She  drew  me  sharply 
behind  a  tree. 

"Miss  P.,"  she  said  in  breathless  agitation,  "it  is 
not  the  least  of  my  sufferings  here  that  I  know  it  is 
supposed  they  are  caused  by  this  marriage.  I  beg 
you  would  not  deny  it  (for  I  would  have  spoken)  — 
it  is  too  palpable  that  this  is  believed.  Yet  you  are 
wrong  —  completely  wrong.  Those  who  have  ceased 
to  give  us  pleasure  very  soon  lose  the  power  to  give 
us  pain ;  and  I  view  his  marriage  with  an  indifference 
that  wishes  him  neither  well  nor  ill.  My  heart  was 
never  engaged.  I  will  not  deny  that  he  risked  it  and 
all  my  peace  with  it,  but  he  succeeded  not.  I  do  not 
form  one  wish  to  be  in  her  place  whom  we  have  just 
seen.  They  will  have  what  happiness  they  deserve 
and,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  I  think  it  will  be  little 
indeed." 

She  turned  and  gazed  after  them  with  an  expres 
sion  of  bitterness  the  most  concentrated.  Never 
again  did  I  doubt  that  it  was  not  wounded  love  but 


230  "THE  LADIES!" 

wounded  pride  which  was  driving  her  from  Court 
into  the  retirement  of  her  home.  Let  others  more 
capable  than  myself  judge  which  is  the  severer  pang  ! 
She  had  never  regarded  him  further  than  as  he  had 
flattered  her  vanity  as  woman  and  genius,  and  a 
burning  resentment  at  the  public  slight  was  all  that 
needed  commiseration. 

She  added  composedly  :  - 

:<Your  kindness  deserved  this  explanation  and  will 
accept  it.  There  is  no  man  on  earth  so  indifferent  to 
me  as  Colonel  Digby,  and  later  events  will  prove  to 
you  that  I  speak  the  truth." 

I  said  I  could  but  rejoice  to  hear  it,  and  we  re 
turned  from  these  agitations  to  her  room. 

All  this  confirmed  the  opinion  I  held  that  she 
was  naturally  a  person  of  agreeable  disposition  but 
spoiled  by  her  literary  success.  I  never  doubted  that 
her  acceptance  of  Court  office  was  with  a  view  to  a 
brilliant  establishment  such  as  she  had  given  her  own 
"Evelina."  She  was  as  much  her  own  heroine  and 
hoped  for  as  romantic  advancement,  very  sensibly 
preferring  a  social  triumph,  could  it  be  secured,  to  a 
mere  literary  one,  which  she  always  took  a  little 
doubtfully  as  somewhat  that  might  be  disparaged. 
Disappointed,  and  openly  disappointed,  in  this  hope 
by  the  heartless  behaviour  of  Colonel  Digby,  she  felt 
retreat  to  be  inevitable  and  also  the  only  hope  for  a 
future  settlement.  Yet  had  she  been  wiser  to  re 
main !  I  have  ever  been  convinced  that  her  taste 
for  the  pen  was  gone  by  and  that  only  the  narrowness 
of  her  means  drove  her  to  it  again.  At  Court  she 


A  BLUESTOCKING  AT  COURT  231 

would  have  been  valuable  from  a  natural  caution 
which  received  a  fresh  lesson  in  this  foiled  love-affair. 
When  I  add  that  Mrs  Schwellenberg  offered  her  the 
reversion  of  her  own  place  when  ill  health  should 
cause  her  retirement  and  that  I  know  this  would  have 
been  confirmed,  it  will  be  seen  what  she  most  im 
prudently  sacrificed  to  sentiment. 

It  will  be  objected  that  marriage  was  her  object. 
If  so,  there  were  opportunities  at  Court  she  could  not 
have  elsewhere,  and  among  the  grave  clergy  who  at 
tended,  a  suitable  settlement  might  have  been  found. 
Miss  Burney,  as  the  lady  of  a  Bishop,  dispensing  a 
serious  hospitality  and  amending  his  Charges  to  his 
clergy,  would  have  been  in  her  right  place.  I  am 
told  that  her  later  manner  of  writing  was  far  more 
suited  to  Episcopality  than  to  fiction,  and  can  answer 
that  when  reading  her  "Memoirs"  of  her  father  I 
was  unable  to  trace  the  sense  through  the  verbiage, 
which  appears  to  confirm  this  view.  But  it  was  not 
to  be,  though  I  believe  from  the  eagerness  with  which 
she  ever  visited  the  Royals  and  took  every  oppor 
tunity  to  keep  her  name  in  sight,  that  she  regretted 
her  folly  and  would  have  repaired  it.  But  how  was  it 
possible  for  Their  Majesties  to  assist  a  needy  French 
man  and  Roman  Catholic  ? 

In  her  final  parting  with  her  Mistress  she  received 
much  kind  notice,  including  permission  to  retain  half 
her  emolument  as  a  pension  —  and  this  after  but  five 
years'  service ! 

The  sweet  Princesses  successively  pressed  her  hand 
at  the  parting  scene  and  she  quitted  the  room  with 


232  "THE  LADIES!" 

her  handkerchief  at  her  eyes  and  a  profound  final 
curtsey.  The  Princess  Royal  whispered  aside  to 
me:  — 

"Poor  soul,  she  might  have  made  others  happier 
but  for  the  cruel  wound  her  heart  has  received.  I 
cannot  —  cannot  forgive  Colonel  Digby  I" 

The  gay  and  pretty  Princess  Elizabeth,  much 
livelier  in  disposition,  leaned  on  her  sister's  shoulder, 
whispering  also :  — 

"I  think,  sister,  that  Miss  Burney  will  not  always 
be  inconsolable,  for  at  the  trial  of  Mr  Warren  Has 
tings  the  Duchess  of  Ancaster  observed  that  Mr 
Wyndham  was  very  particular  in  his  attentions  to 
Miss  Burney  and  that  she  did  by  no  means  froisser 
them.  And  have  you  not  thought  that  she  will  cer 
tainly  meet  him  much  oftener  in  town  than  here  ?" 

I  could  but  smile  at  the  young  discerner  whose 
thoughts  agreed  so  fully  with  my  own.  For  some 
time  after  she  would  ask  me  merrily  what  news  of 
Mr  Wyndham,  and  I  certainly  expected  it.  How 
ever  that  was  not  to  be,  and  my  expectations  were 
verified  next  year  by  Miss  Burney 's  marriage  —  a 
truly  amazing  one  —  even  to  M.  D'Arblay,  a  refugee 
Frenchman  and  Roman  Catholic ! 

Would  that  I  could  have  heard  Mrs  Thrale-Piozzi's 
views  on  this  circumstance ! 

Here  I  end.  I  design  these  notes  as  a  strong  cor 
rective  of  what  might  place  the  Queen  and  others  of 
less  moment  in  an  unamiable  light.  Let  it  be  re 
membered  that  Miss  Burney  was  the  spoiled  child  of 
genius,  who  would  still  be  first  and  who  throbbingly 


A  BLUESTOCKING  AT  COURT  233 

aspired  to  a  social  eminence  denied  her.  She  re 
ceived  all  attentions  from  the  Royal  Family  as  her 
due,  and  knew  not  how  to  draw  the  distinction  be 
tween  what  was  due  to  her  own  merit  and  what  was 
given  by  these  personages  as  due  to  their  own  high 
standard  of  courtesy  and  compassion.  This  is  a  dis 
tinction  seldom  drawn  by  those  unused  to  high  circles 
and  a  mere  literary  society  cannot  teach  it. 

I  have  often  desired  that  I  could  have  had  the 
honour  to  be  admitted  to  Her  Majesty's  private 
thoughts  on  Miss  Burney,  and  should  not  be  wholly 
surprised  if  they  favoured  my  own. 

No  doubt  allowance  may  be  made  for  the  vagaries 
of  genius,  but  none  the  less  do  I  rejoice  that  this,  my 
first  meeting  with  uncommon  talent,  was  also  the 
last.  It  is  entirely  out  of  place  in  courts,  and  cer 
tainly  a  happy  mediocrity  is  the  soil  in  which  flourish 
the  domestic  virtues. 

Though  I  defend  not  Colonel  Digby  it  is  possible 
he  showed  his  judgment  if  not  his  delicacy  in  his 
retreat,  it  being  very  difficult  for  him  or  any  man  to 
preserve  in  Miss  Burney's  company  that  sense  of 
superiority  which  is  so  essential  to  matrimonial 
peace.  There  was  that  in  her  eye  which,  if  suddenly 
surprised,  indicated  satire;  there  was  that  in  her 
demeanour  which  hinted  depths  which  might  or 
might  not  be  soothing.  To  be  candid,  what  we  do 
not  understand  is  feared  rather  than  loved.  And  it 
is  to  the  author  of  "Evelina"  I  owe  this  conviction. 

Peace  be  with  her  manes  when  what  I  have  so 
doubtfully  written  shall  be  read ! 


THE  DARCYS  OF  ROSINGS 


ELIZABETH  BENNET 
MRS.   DARCY 

"I  MUST  confess,"  observed  Jane  Austen,  when 
Elizabeth  Bennet,  who  had  been  created  in  1796, 
was  at  last  introduced  to  the  world  of  readers  in 
1812,  "I  must  confess  that  I  think  her  as  delight 
ful  a  creature  as  ever  appeared  in  print,  and  how  I 
shall  be  able  to  tolerate  those  who  do  not  like  her 
at  least,  I  do  not  know." 

Miss  Austen  had  the  whimsical  habit  of  divert 
ing  herself,  when  visiting  portrait  galleries,  by 
looking  for  faces  that  resembled  those  of  her  hero 
ines.  She  was  continually  on  the  watch  for  Eliza 
beth,  but  never  came  upon  her.  She  found  Mrs. 
Bingley,  "in  a  white  gown  with  green  ornaments," 
but  not  Mrs.  Darcy  herself.  "I  daresay  Mrs.  D. 
will  be  in  yellow." 

The  exhibition  in  Spring  Gardens  promised  well, 
but  no  Elizabeth  appeared.  "We  have  been  both 
to  the  exhibition  and  to  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds 's, 
and  I  am  disappointed,  for  there  was  nothing  like 
Mrs.  D.  at  either.  I  can  only  imagine  that  Mr.  D. 
prizes  any  picture  of  her  too  much  to  like  it  should 
be  exposed  to  the  public  eye.  I  can  imagine  he 
would  have  that  sort  of  feeling  —  that  mixture  of 
love,  pride,  and  delicacy." 

We  could  wish  that  Miss  Austen  had  found  the 
portrait ;  but  since  she  never  did,  there  is  none  of 
Mrs.  Darcy  in  this  book. 


VII 
THE  DARCYS  OF  ROSINGS 

(A  reintroduction  to  some  of  the  characters  of  Miss 
Austen's  novels.] 

Whitethorn  Manor,  HUNSDON,  KENT. 

4th  May,  1814. 

You  will  be  interested  to  learn,  my  dear  Sophia, 
that  we  are  arrived  at  our  new  home  a  se'nnight  since, 
having  posted  from  London  with  every  comfort. 
Already  I  feel  sure  we  shall  not  regret  fixing  here. 
Now  that  the  Admiral  has  retired  from  the  naval 
service,  a  rural  retreat  was  his  object,  and  we  had 
a  strong  recommendation  to  Hunsdon  from  Mrs 
Colonel  Brandon,  the  Marianne  Dashwood  of  your 
early  days  and  mine.  She  spoke  of  the  little  domain 
named  as  above,  and  investigation  soon  convinced 
my  dear  Admiral  that  this  was  what  he  had  hoped  to 
secure.  My  approbation  followed  as  a  matter  of 
course,  and  I  hope  an  early  visit  will  convince  me  of 
Sophia's.  If  a  fair  dawn  promises  a  cloudless  day, 
we  may  look  forward  with  the  highest  degree  of  con 
fidence  permissible  in  human  affairs. 

The  journey  from  London  to  the  village  of  Huns 
don  is  agreeable,  and  through  an  affluence  of  English 
scenery  which  must  surely  compare  favourably  with 
any  in  the  world :  swelling  hills  embowered  in  green ; 
placid  rivers  enlivened  by  a  delightful  concert  of 
feathered  songsters;  villages  clustered  about  the 


238  "THE  LADIES!" 

churchyards,  where  sleep  their  rude  forefathers ; 
though  it  were  to  be  desired  that  a  judicious  restora 
tion  could  obliterate  the  savage  Norman  and  Gothic 
architecture  too  often  found  in  the  churches,  and  that 
they  could  be  restored  in  harmony  with  the  more 
elegant  taste  of  the  present  day.  I  could  never  agree 
with  Mr  Walpole's  love  of  the  Gothic !  Still,  I  am 
not  to  deny  that  the  perspective  is  sometimes  pleas 
ing,  and  the  intention  of  a  ruder  age  merits  respect. 
The  Admiral,  who  is  not  an  amateur  of  scenery, 
slumbered  most  of  the  way.  We  alighted  from  the 
post-chaise  at  Sundale  for  a  night's  rest,  and  ordered 
a  light  repast,  with  tea  for  me,  and  that  heady  ale 
which  I  could  wish  my  Admiral  would  renounce,  both 
on  account  of  his  increasing  weight  and  his  tendency 
to  inflammatory  gout.  But  you  are  ndt  now  to  learn 
that  it  is  vain  to  remonstrate  with  gentlemen  where 
the  pleasures  of  the  table  are  concerned.  Our  rooms 
being  unprepared,  we  sat  downstairs,  though  the  inn 
was  full  in  anticipation  of  some  horse  races  tomorrow, 
and  some  of  the  gentlemen  decidedly  in  liquor.  My 
attention  was  early  engaged  by  a  lady  of  prettyish 
appearance  at  a  table  near  by,  whose  bonnet  and 
spencer  bespoke  a  florid  taste  hardly  in  keeping  with 
her  uncurled  ringlets  and  —  dare  I  add  it  —  un 
washed  hands.  She  was  accompanied  by  a  good- 
looking  man  in  regimentals,  of  handsome  but,  as  I 
thought,  somewhat  dissolute  presence  (so  different 
from  the  solid  worth  of  my  Admiral !),  who  was  evi 
dently  an  officer  from  Chatham,  not  far  distant.  I 
judged  them  to  be  husband  and  wife  from  their 


THE  DARCYS  OF  ROSINGS  239 

yawning  inattention  to  each  other's  remarks.  Finally, 
the  gentleman,  rousing  himself,  said  in  a  low  clear 
tone :  — 

"It  signifies  not,  Mrs  Wickham,  what  your  opin 
ion  may  be,  for  the  thing  must  be  done.  Money 
we  must  have,  and  your  sister's  influence  with  Mr 
Darcy  is  our  only  prospect  of  relief.  Your  father 
will  do  no  more.  Mr  Darcy 's  prejudice  against  me 
is  fixed,  and  therefore  your  journey  to  Hunsdon,  now 
they  are  staying  at  Rosings,  will  be  necessary.  Argue 
no  more.  My  mind  is  made  up." 

She  pouted  angrily. 

"I  am  quite  as  sensible  as  you  are,  Wickham,  of  our 
need  of  money ;  but  you  know  how  I  hate  travelling 
alone,  with  all  the  men  ogling  me  and  the  servants 
looking  for  vails  that  I  have  it  not  to  give.  Come 
with  me,  and  all  will  be  well."  Her  tone  was  cajoling. 

"Oblige  me  with  the  letter  you  received  from  Mrs 
Darcy  a  week  since,"  was  his  only  reply. 

She  pulled  out  a  dog's-eared  letter  from  her  reti 
cule,  and  he  read  aloud  :  — 

"'I  regret,  my  dear  Lydia,  to  be  obliged  to  speak 
plainly  and  say  that  the  less  Mr  Darcy  meets  Mr 
Wickham  the  more  likely  is  his  benevolence  to  con 
tinue.'  Now,  Mrs  Wickham,  in  view  of  that  state 
ment,  where  is  the  sense  in  urging  me  to  accompany 
you  to  Rosings?" 

He  threw  it  back  to  her,  and  leaned  in  his  chair, 
staring  at  his  boots  with  a  very  discontented  expres 
sion.  I  am  no  eavesdropper,  Sophia,  but  the  Ad 
miral  was  still  engaged  with  his  plate,  and  I  could  not 


240  "THE  LADIES!" 

withdraw ;  and  though  I  looked  pointedly  at  the  lady, 
she  took  no  notice. 

"It  would  show  more  consideration  for  me,  Wick- 
ham,  if  you  was  to  come.  You  know  how  poor  my 
nerves  are,  and  the  flutterations  I  suffer  from  at  the 
thought  of  seeing  Darcy.  Such  a  stiff,  starched  man 
—  I  don't  know  how  Elizabeth  endures  him.  And 
the  last  time  I  stayed  at  Pemberley,  the  airs  of  her 
maid  sunk  my  spirits  altogether.  I  have  not  a  gown 
equal  to  her  black  silk.  The  miseries  our  marriage 
has  brought  upon  me  —  Good  God !  what  a  fool  I 
was!" 

"It  was  certainly  not  forced  upon  you,  Madam, 
whatever  it  might  be  on  me." 

"A  pleasant  allusion,  I  must  say,"  said  Mrs  Wick- 
ham,  tossing  her  ringlets ;  then,  beginning  to  giggle : 
"But  you  was  always  a  quiz,  Wickham,  and  don't 
mean  the  half  you  say.  You  know  how  I  hate  travel 
ling  alone,  whereas  you  and  me  could  pick  up  some 
friends  on  the  way,  and  have  a  hand  at  cards.  Don't 
drink  no  more  now.  You  will  want  your  head  clear 
for  the  races.  Did  you  ever  see  such  a  scare  as  that 
bonnet  yonder?" 

There  wa3  no  mistaking  who  she  meant,  my  dear 
Sophia;  and  though  it  is  true  I  had  on  my  beaver 
bonnet  and  blue  veil,  a  little  disordered  by  the  wind, 
still  there  was  no  excuse  for  her  unladylike  freedom. 
I  felt  my  complexion  heighten  indignantly.  Mr 
Wickham  took  no  notice. 

"I  wish  to  heaven,"  he  said  gloomily,  "that  I  could 
perform  if  it  were  the  most  trifling  service  to  Darcy, 


THE  DARCYS  OF  ROSINGS  241 

to  lessen  this  load  of  obligation.  There  are  times  —  " 
But  his  lady  was  giggling,  and  waving  her  hand  to  a 
lady  at  some  distance,  and,  rising,  he  strode  away. 

But  what  was  I  to  think?  For  I  had  been  in 
formed  by  Marianne  Brandon  that  Mr  and  Mrs 
Darcy  are  the  chief  residents  at  Hunsdon,  where  he 
inherited  the  noble  estate  of  Rosings  from  his  aunt, 
the  Lady  Catherine  de  Bourgh,  whose  daughter  and 
heiress  died.  Mrs  Darcy  was  formerly  a  Miss  Eliza 
beth  Bennet,  and  this  sister,  Mrs  Wickham,  had  been 
of  by  no  means  irreproachable  conduct.  And  this 
was  she !  Such  impropriety  of  demeanour !  Such 
a  vulgar  insipidity !  If  Mrs  Darcy  in  any  way  re 
sembled  her,  I  feared  our  hope  of  pleasant  society 
was  destined  to  disappointment.  Such  connections  ! 

I  broke  the  matter  with  my  dear  Sir  Charles ;  but 
he  pooh-poohed  my  anxieties  in  his  sailorly  fashion, 
saying :  — 

"There  's  many  a  bad  egg  from  a  good  nest,  my 
Lady,  and  Mrs  Darcy  may  be  a  valuable  woman,  for 
all  her  sister  looks  such  a  slut.  And  I  would  have 
you  by  no  means  be  cackling  about  this  meeting  all 
over  the  neighbourhood." 

Cackling!  But  you,  my  dear  Sophia,  know  the 
energy  with  which  the  Admiral  expresses  himself. 
It  was  his  mode  of  recommending  discretion. 

Next  morning  we  started,  and  saw  them  no  more ; 
but  I  understood  from  the  remark  of  one  waiter  to 
another  that  Mr  Wickham  was  a  well-known  figure 
in  the  betting  ring,  and  the  races  would  engage  their 
stay. 


242  "THE  LADIES!" 

As  our  chaise  and  four  rolled  into  Hunsdon,  my 
spirits  were  elevated  by  the  beauty  of  the  prospect, 
where  a  flourishing  peasantry  dwells  in  prosperity 
under  the  protection  of  the  worthy  Darcy.  The  cot 
tages,  with  their  rose-decked  gardens  and  beehives, 
the  rich  pastures,  with  grazing  cattle  and  dotted  with 
sheep,  all  expressed  the  idea  of  pastoral  plenty ;  and 
the  handsome  carriages  and  curricles  passing  gave  us 
a  high  opinion  of  the  consequence  of  the  neighbour 
hood.  I  roused  the  Admiral  to  partake  my  pleasure, 
as  we  passed  a  beautiful  little  church  with  a  handsome 
portico  in  the  Italian  taste.  We  next  drove  by  the 
Parsonage,  standing  in  a  green  lane  and  faced  by  the 
park  palings  of  Rosings ;  and  as  we  passed  I  observed 
a  sensible-looking  lady  at  the  window,  whom  I  judged 
to  be  Mrs  Collins.  The  Rector,  a  tall  heavy-featured 
man,  tying  up  his  carnations,  hastened  at  once  to  the 
gate,  and  by  low  bows,  repeated  until  we  were  out  of 
sight,  gave  us  our  first  welcome  to  Hunsdon.  I 
would  have  prevailed  on  the  Admiral  to  stop  in  re 
sponse  to  so  much  civility ;  but  he  refused,  and  put 
ting  his  head  out  of  the  window,  desired  John  to  drive 
on.  I  could  only  hope  Mr  Collins  did  not  hear  him. 

How  shall  I  describe,  my  dear  Sophia,  the  grati 
fication  with  which  I  beheld  our  new  home !  It  is  a 
long,  low,  white  house,  covered  with  roses  and  clema 
tis,  with  pleasant  windows  opening  to  smooth  green 
lawns,  and  an  air  of  purity  and  order  within  which  is 
peculiar  to  English  homes.  Having  travelled  to 
Boulogne,  I  may  be  allowed  to  be  a  judge.  The  rows 
of  curtseying  servants,  headed  by  good  Mrs  Wil- 


THE  DARCYS  OF  ROSINGS  243 

Hams,  the  housekeeper,  and  the  Admiral's  faithful 
butler,  Sampson,  gave  us  a  rude  but  honest  welcome, 
and  were  ordered  a  couple  of  bottles  of  port  to  drink 
our  healths. 

Next  day  Mr  and  Mrs  Collins  waited  upon  us. 
She  strikes  me  as  a  woman  of  judgment,  much  in 
clined  to  reserve,  and  with  a  demure  and  settled 
manner ;  but  this,  in  her  position,  may  be  very  neces 
sary.  The  Rector  —  what  shall  I  say  ?  This  was 
his  greeting :  — 

"It  is  with  profound  pleasure  I  have  the  honour  to 
welcome  Sir  Charles  Sefton  and  your  Ladyship  to 
your  magnificent  abode  in  our  humble  village  of  Huns- 
don.  We  are  indeed  honoured  by  the  choice  of  new 
comers  so  distinguished,  to  whom  the  highest  circles 
of  London  or  the  amenities  of  the  world  are  alike 
open.  But  the  refined  and  elegant  society  of  this 
neighbourhood  will  be  found  worthy  of  even  such  a 
mark  of  approbation.  Mrs  Collins  shares  my  sense 
of  the  distinction  thus  conferred  upon  us,  and  I  speak 
for  her  as  well  as  myself." 

She  looked  somewhat  uncomfortable  at  this  ex 
uberance,  accompanied  with  a  formal  bow  for  every 
comma,  but  is  probably  used  to  it,  for  she  quietly 
made  me  a  sensible  little  speech  of  welcome,  to  which 
I  responded  in  kind. 

"I  thank  you,  Sir,"  replied  my  Admiral  bluntly; 
"and  you  will  find  us  regular  attendants  at  Divine 
Service,  where  we  hope  to  benefit  by  your  discourses, 
which  I  hope  excel  in  quality  rather  than  quantity. 
Ha,  ha!" 


244  "THE  LADIES!" 

"My  discourses,  Sir  Charles,  never  exceed  half  an 
hour,  that  being  the  length  preferred  by  the  Right 
Honorable  Lady  Catherine  de  Bourgh,  who  presented 
me  to  this  parish ;  and  though  she  is  now  elevated  to  a 
sphere  higher  even  than  that  which  she  adorned  on 
earth,  I  still  observe  her  wishes,  and  the  rather 
that  I  have  not  had  any  intimation  to  the  contrary 
from  Mr  Fitzwilliam  Darcy,  her  nephew,  or  his 
amiable  lady,  to  whom  I  have  the  honour  to  be  re 
lated." 

"Indeed?"  I  said;  "I  was  not  aware.  Do  Mr 
and  Mrs  Darcy  always  reside  here?" 

"They  divide  the  year  between  Rosings  and  Pem- 
berley  in  Derbyshire,  your  Ladyship.  But  their 
daughters,  the  Misses  Darcy,  prefer  Rosings,  so  they 
are  oftener  here.  And  I  am  frequently  in  the  habit 
of  saying  to  Mrs  Darcy  that  when  these  fair  flowers 
are  transplanted  to  Pemberley,  the  gardens  of  Ros 
ings  droop  and  wither.  Elegant  females  are  very 
susceptible  to  these  little  attentions,  as  you  are  aware, 
and  I  never  hesitate  to  offer  them." 

"Flummery  and  females!"  interjected  the  Ad 
miral.  "I  hope,  Sir,  it  is  not  your  intention  to  spoil 
my  Lady  Sefton's  digestion  with  this  sort  of  whipped 
cream !" 

Mr  Collins  bowed  and  sidled,  and  Mrs  C.  ob 
served  :  — 

"The  Misses  Darcy  are  two  extremely  handsome 
young  women  —  sixteen  and  fifteen  respectively. 
Miss  Darcy  is  most  prepossessing.  I  feel  sure  your 
Ladyship  will  agree  with  me." 


THE  DARCYS  OF  ROSINGS  245 

"Don't  omit  the  Admiral,  Mrs  Collins!"  said  Sir 
Charles.  "I  like  a  pretty  face  as  well  as  anyone,  as 
you  may  judge  by  my  Lady." 

The  dear  man !  He  expresses  himself  with  blunt- 
ness  occasionally,  but  the  heart  is  gold  ! 

"Are  you  as  good  a  judge  of  pigs  as  of  ladies,  Mr 
Collins?"  he  added;  "for  if  so,  pray  accompany  me 
on  my  first  visit  to  my  pigsties,  and  we  will  leave  the 
ladies  to  their  gossip." 

Mr  Collins  went,  with  a  rueful  glance  at  his  boots, 
but  bowing  and  smiling  all  the  way.  I  learnt  much 
of  the  neighbourhood  from  Mrs  Collins,  but  with  the 
warm  colouring  she  judged  amiable.  I  must  except, 
however,  the  poor  of  the  parish.  There  she  spoke, 
with  a  censure  no  doubt  deserved,  of  thriftlessness 
and  ingratitude.  These  indeed  are  tokens  of  a  spirit 
of  discontent  which  we  cannot  view  with  composure, 
especially  in  the  light  of  late  events  in  the  unhappy 
country  of  France  —  the  prey  of  impiety  and  revo 
lution. 

The  visit  was,  on  the  whole,  pleasant,  though 
Mr  Collins's  courtesy  is  overstrained,  and  the  Ad 
miral,  throwing  himself  into  his  chair  when  they 
departed,  made  use  of  language  which,  however 
suitable  for  gentlemen,  the  female  pen  declines  to 
record,  adding :  — 

"When  Mr  Collins's  foot  slipped,  and  he  fell  prone 
in  the  muck,  he  got  up  and  apologised  until  I  fairly 
ran  for  it." 

Next  day  Mr  and  Mrs  Darcy  waited  upon  us, 
having  thoughtfully  sent  a  mounted  messenger  to 


246  "THE  LADIES!" 

enquire  if  we  felt  equal  to  receiving  company  after 
our  journey.  On  our  agreeing,  they  presented  them 
selves  in  the  most  unostentatious  way,  having  walked 
through  their  park  and  down  the  lane,  though  the 
weather  was  showery.  All  forebodings  were  instantly 
banished. 

Mr  Darcy  is  a  tall  well-formed  man,  in  early 
middle  life,  distinguished  in  bearing  and  manners,  a 
little  haughty,  but  not  more  so  than  is  becoming  in 
his  position.  Mrs  Darcy,  some  years  younger,  is 
veritably  charming.  You  know,  my  dear  Sophia, 
that  I  am  not  rash  and  do  not  use  such  words  un 
guardedly.  She  smiled,  disclosing  beautiful  teeth, 
and,  as  I  observed,  has  the  peculiar  grace  of  one  whose 
eyes  smile  in  harmony  with  her  lips.  Nothing  could 
be  more  obliging  than  her  manners,  and  I  could 
scarce  think  it  possible  that  the  tawdry,  noisy  Mrs 
Wickham  could  be  her  sister.  Her  eyes  are  dark 
and  animated,  with  long  eyelashes  which  soften  their 
somewhat  alarming  brilliance.  She  is  extremely 
conversible. 

"I  am  glad  you  were  pleased  with  the  village,  Lady 
Sefton.  What  did  you  think  of  the  church?  The 
old  one  was  a  venerable  structure,  dating  from  the 
Plantagenet  kings,  and  I  personally  should  have  pre 
ferred  that ;  but  Sir  Lewis  de  Bourgh,  who  had  made 
the  grand  tour  with  Mr  Horace  Walpole  and  other 
notable  amateurs,  had  acquired  a  passion  for  Italy, 
and  when  restoring  the  church,  Italianised  it.  Had 
he  also  presented  us  with  Naples,  where  the  original 
stands,  the  gift  would  have  been  complete ;  but  to  my 


THE  DARCYS  OF  ROSINGS  247 

mind  it  stands  as  ill  in  little  Hunsdon  as  would  the 
dress  of  an  Italian  Signora  on  good  Mrs  Collins." 

She  smiled  so  archly  that  I  laughed,  and  the  Ad 
miral  joined  in. 

"Quite  right,  my  dear  Madam,"  he  exclaimed. 
"There  can  be  no  greater  folly  than  sticking  the 
buildings  of  one  country  in  the  surroundings  of  an 
other.  What  the  English  builders  built  is  good 
enough  for  English  men  and  women,  and  more  suit 
able  than  any  Greek  and  Roman  temples  and  such 
idle  gazebos.  They  will  be  having  Divine  Worship 
in  a  Belvedere  next !" 

I  blushed  for  my  dear  Admiral's  taste,  but  was 
unable  to  check  his  loud  voice.  Mrs  Darcy  ap 
plauded  with  her  gloved  hands,  and  sparkling  eyes. 

"I  make  a  point  of  applauding  any  judgment 
which  agrees  with  my  own,"  she  said  playfully; 
"and  I  congratulate  you,  my  dear  Sir,  on  an  excellent 
taste,  and  vigour  in  expressing  it.  I  foresee  we  shall 
be  always  applauding  one  another.  Am  I  not  for 
tunate  in  our  new  neighbours,  my  dear  Darcy?" 

He  agreed,  with  the  utmost  kindliness  and  a  grace 
ful  touch  of  formality,  and  requested  permission  to 
examine  the  exquisite  set  of  ivory  chessmen  pre 
sented  to  the  Admiral  at  Bombay.  They  are  a  su 
perb  work  of  art,  all  the  pieces  being  mounted  on 
elephants,  camels,  and  horses,  elegantly  carved.  Hav 
ing  bestowed  his  meed  of  admiration,  he  added :  — 

"Since  you  are  acquainted  with  India,  Sir  Charles, 
it  will  give  me  the  utmost  pleasure  if  you  and  her 
Ladyship  will  do  me  the  honour  to  inspect  those 


248  "THE  LADIES!" 

which  Mr  Lorenzo  Darcy,  my  uncle,  brought  from 
that  wonderful  country.  The  Ivory  Shrine  is  con 
sidered  a  masterpiece,  and  some  have  recommended 
that  it  should  be  in  some  public  collection.  But 
family  associations — " 

"Public  collections!"  interrupted  the  Admiral  (I 
could  wish,  Sophia,  that  the  dear  man  would  not  in 
terrupt  when  persons  of  consideration  are  speaking). 
"They  are  an  encroachment  by  the  lower  orders, 
on  all  accounts  to  be  resisted.  What  ?  Are  private 
treasures  to  be  exhibited  to  their  pawings  and  igno 
rance  ?  No,  Mr  Darcy  !  Preserve  the  Ivory  Shrine 
as  an  heirloom,  and  let  those  who  would  engage  the 
votes  of  the  vulgar  be  — " 

I  will  not  record  the  end  of  the  sentence.  Mrs 
Darcy  apologised  for  her  daughters  not  waiting  upon 
me  by  mentioning  that  they  had  a  prior  engagement 
with  Mrs  Collins,  relative  to  a  treat  for  the  village 
school  in  honour  of  Mr  Darcy 's  natal  day. 

"I  bespeak  your  kindness  for  them,  my  dear 
Madam,"  she  was  pleased  to  say.  "My  elder,  Char 
lotte,  has  a  strong  taste  for  sketching  and  music,  in 
both  of  which  I  am  aware  you  excel.  Rumour,  as 
you  see,  has  preceded  you  with  her  trumpet !  Caro 
line  is  more  studious.  We  hope,  when  your  son  is 
here  on  leave,  that  many  little  pleasure  parties  and 
balls  may  be  made  up.  My  young  people  and  all 
those  of  the  neighbourhood  are  excessively  fond  of 
dancing." 

I  protested  this  was  a  taste  my  Henry  shared,  and 
was  very  sensible  of  her  attention.  Indeed,  Sophia, 


THE  DARCYS  OF  ROSINGS  249 

I  trust  you  will  not  set  me  down  as  a  Mrs  Busybody 
(a  character  I  detest)  if  I  say  that  certain  possi 
bilities  flashed  across  my  mind  at  the  moment.  No 
young  man  can  be  more  attractive  nor  stronger  in 
moral  principle  than  Henry,  and  if  these  young 
women  —  But  I  need  say  no  more !  Miss  Darcy  is 
so  great  an  heiress  as  to  be  an  object  to  many. 

"You  have  met  Mr  Collins  as  well  as  his  wife,  I 
conclude?"  she  added  smiling. 

"We  have  had  that  distinction  !"  I  said,  and  could 
not  forbear  smiling  also. 

"A  worthy  man !  But  there  are  peculiarities  of 
manner.  His  discourses  are  always  adapted  to  the 
occasion,  and  his  allusions  —  He  will,  no  doubt, 
tomorrow  refer  to  your  arrival  in  his  sermon." 

"My  dear  Mrs  Darcy,"  said  I,  much  alarmed, 
"have  you  any  real  reason  to  suppose  this ?  I  have 
never  been  the  object  of  public  comment.  And  the 
Admiral !  I  trust  you  are  mistaken." 

"I  may  be,"  she  replied  archly ;  "but  can  only  say 
that  the  Sunday  after  we  settled  at  Rosings,  Mr  Col 
lins  preached  from  the  text,  'Who  is  this  that  cometh 
from  Edom,  with  dyed  garments  from  Bozrah,'  and 
made  it  very  clear  that  Mr  Darcy  was  that  individ 
ual." 

I  could  only  gaze  at  her  in  dismay,  but  was 
obliged  to  check  my  impulse  of  consulting  the  Ad 
miral,  lest  he  should  take  some  compromising  step 
as  regards  Mr  Collins,  who  might  be  entirely  inno 
cent  of  such  an  intention. 

When   our  visitors   rose  to   take  leave,   and   Sir 


250  "THE  LADIES!" 

Charles  and  I  attended  them  to  the  gate,  I  felt  a 
friendship  was  commenced  which  might  have  the 
happiest  results  for  both  families.  At  the  gate  we 
were  joined  by  the  young  ladies,  who  had  walked  up 
the  lane  from  the  Parsonage,  and  the  introductions 
were  made.  They  curtseyed  with  the  prettiest  air  of 
good  breeding.  Charlotte,  the  elder,  is  a  glowing 
brunette.  Her  purity  of  expression  and  correct  fea 
tures  positively  charmed  me.  The  younger,  not  so 
unusual  in  beauty,  is  still  extremely  attractive,  and 
has  her  mother's  penetrating  and  sparkling  eyes. 

The  next  day  brought  us  a  visit  from  my  old  friend, 
Marianne  Brandon,  who  settled  here  with  her  Colonel 
Brandon  after  Delaford  was  sold  to  Mr  Edward 
Ferrars  on  his  second  marriage.  Her  chief  induce 
ment  at  Delaford  being  thus  removed  by  the  death 
of  her  sister,  Mrs  Edward  Ferrars,  they  decided  to 
fix  nearer  London. 

I  need  not  describe  to  you,  who  know  her,  the 
warmth  of  her  greeting.  Her  feelings  are  always 
strong  and  strongly  expressed. 

"It  adds  delight  to  delight  itself,"  she  cried,  em 
bracing  me,  "  that  you  should  be  settled  here,  my  dear 
Anne.  What  happy  days  are  in  store  for  us !  With 
our  pencils  we  will  seek  the  beech  woods  of  White 
thorn,  and  transcribe  the  various  moods  of  nature." 

"Beechmast,"  said  the  Admiral,  "is  one  of  the 
most  fattening  things  I  know  for  swine,  and  if  you  will 
not  object  to  their  presence,  Mrs  Brandon,  I  doubt 
not  they  will  allow  of  yours.  What  say  you,  Colonel 
Brandon?" 


THE  DARCYS  OF  ROSINGS  251 

Their  old  friendship  makes  this  permissible,  how 
ever  unromantic,  and  he  has  always  rallied  her  thus. 
She  continued  with  ardour :  — 

"I  look  forward  to  the  most  delightful  al  fresco 
meals  in  the  green  shades.  We  will  make  up  little 
parties  to  recline  on  the  moss  — " 

"In  that  case,  my  dear,  I  fear  I  must  ask  you  to 
leave  me  out!"  said  dear  Colonel  Brandon,  smiling 
mischievously.  :£You  forget  my  rheumatism  and 
flannel  waistcoats!" 

She  bit  her  lip.  It  is  a  point  on  which  she  is  sen 
sitive,  for  she  would  not  have  him  thought  much 
older  than  she,  though  there  is  twenty  years'  dis 
parity. 

"Let  us  leave  them  to  their  own  dullness,  my  dear 
Marianne,  and  tell  me  all  your  news,"  said  I. 

She  drew  her  chair  to  mine  and  talked  with  all  her 
old  animation.  Pity  they  have  no  children!  Her 
excellent  qualities  and  his  deserve  repetition.  One 
of  her  items,  I  own,  surprised  me.  They  are  expect 
ing  a  visit  in  August  from  —  whom  do  you  think  ? 
You  cannot  guess,  nor  could  I.  Young  Willoughby, 
now  twenty-one  years  old,  son  of  her  ancient  flame, 
John  Willoughby !  She  speaks  of  him  now  without 
any  consciousness,  and  there  is  evidently  no  painful 
feeling.  Spending  his  wife's  large  fortune,  Mr  Will 
oughby,  senior,  on  her  death  accepted  an  appoint 
ment  at  Calcutta,  where  he  has  since  resided.  This 
is  his  only  son,  landed  in  England  after  the  Cape 
voyage,  and  he  has  written  them  with  a  very  proper 
letter  of  introduction,  begging  that  the  young  man 


252  "THE  LADIES!" 

may  present  himself  and  bespeaking  the  patronage 
and  civility  for  him  of  Colonel  and  Mrs  Brandon. 
Her  kindly  heart  gives  her  a  peculiar  pleasure  in  this 
opportunity,  for  you  will  remember  Mr  Willoughby, 
senior,  made  explanations  which  removed  much  of 
the  seeming  heartlessness  of  his  treatment  of  her.  I 
might  be  mistaken  in  supposing  that  Colonel  Brandon 
was  less  eager  for  the  visit ;  but  such  was  my  impres 
sion.  He  is  not  impulsive  as  she.  Their  visit  was 
in  all  respects  a  delightful  one. 

We  attended  Divine  Service  next  day,  and  natu 
rally  there  was  a  little  curiosity,  especially  among  the 
white-headed  village  children,  as  we  approached  our 
pew,  a  handsome  enclosure  with  armchairs,  which  I 
feared  but  too  truly  would  soon  invite  Sir  Charles  to 
the  arms  of  Morpheus.  I  think,  Sophia,  it  were  to 
be  desired  that  there  should  be  a  certain  rigour  in  the 
design  of  church  furniture.  I  myself  sometimes  — 
but  today  my  senses  were  on  the  alert,  especially 
when  Mr  Collins  ascended  the  pulpit,  and  pompously 
announced  his  text :  "  A  mighty  man  of  valour." 

The  beginning  was  harmless,  and  my  thoughts 
became  a  little  indistinct,  when  suddenly  I  was  aware 
that  the  allusion  was  to  the  Admiral,  and  to  his  serv 
ices  in  our  actions  with  the  French.  Special  allu 
sion  was  made  to  his  victory  in  the  Arrogant  off 
Ushant !  I  sat  in  such  apprehension  as  cannot  be 
expressed  in  words.  You  are  as  well  aware  as  I  that 
the  modesty  of  a  hero  will  admit  of  no  encomiums, 
and  the  prayer  formed  itself  on  my  lips  (I  hope 
without  impiety)  that  his  sleep  might  continue,  as  I 


THE  DARCYS  OF  ROSINGS  253 

could  not  be  Answerable  for  the  consequences.  I  sat 
on  tenterhooks,  and  meanwhile  the  Admiral  slum 
bered  placidly,  his  gentle  snores  punctuating  Mr 
Collins's  discourse,  his  mouth  open,  nor  dared  I  push 
him  with  my  foot  as  is  my  custom.  Fortunate  in 
deed  was  I  that  the  height  of  the  pew  prevented  my 
catching  Mrs  Darcy's  eye.  I  cannot  but  think  all 
this  was  in  deplorable  taste.  What  think  you  ?  As 
we  left  the  sacred  building,  the  Admiral  said  :  — 

"An  excellent  discourse  !  I  know  not  when  I  have 
heard  a  better.  Pointed  and  instructive.  I  shall 
offer  a  word  of  commendation  to  his  Reverence." 

I  could  but  look  at  him  with  an  imploring  eye  as 
Mr  Collins  bowed. 

"  I  am  happy,  Sir  Charles,"  he  rejoined,  after  the 
encomium,  "to  have  met  with  your  approbation. 
Ensamples  of  heroism  may  surely  as  justly  be  drawn 
from  modern  instances  as  from  Alexander  and  Caesar, 
and  I  am  not  now  to  be  informed  that  such  en- 
samples  are  of  more  interest  to  the  infant  mind  when 
the  illustrious  model  is  seated  among  them  in  all  the 
majesty  of  success  and  honour." 

The  Admiral  stared,  but  Mrs  Darcy,  joining  us, 
staved  off  the  disclosure. 

"I  told  you  so  !"  she  whispered  in  my  ear,  her  eyes 
ctancing  with  humour. 

I  pressed  her  hand  for  silence  and  it  blew  over,  the 
Admiral  later  demanding  jealously :  "What  was  it  all 
about,  my  Lady?"  when  I  replied  with  a  show  of 
countenance:  "A  droll  allusion  of  Mrs  Darcy's,  my 
dear."  So  it  ended. 


254  "THE  LADIES!" 

So  also  must  this  letter,  my  dear  Sophia ;  but  I  do 
not  apologise  for  its  length,  knowing  your  interest  in 
all  that  touches  us.  Your  truly  affe  sister, 

ANNE  SEFTON. 

4th  September,  1814. 

I  resume  my  pen,  my  dear  Sophia,  to  narrate  the 
most  extraordinary  series  of  incidents  which  can  have 
ever  taken  place  in  such  surroundings.  You  may 
have  seen  some  reports  in  the  public  journals,  but 
cannot  have  heard  the  details.  Let  me  strive  to 
impart  my  news  in  as  collected  a  manner  as  they 
merit. 

I  should  premise  that  my  Henry  arrived  on  his 
leave,  and  the  very  day  after  received  cordial  in 
vitations  from  Mr  and  Mrs  Darcy  to  wait  on  them 
and  join  in  all  the  parties  of  pleasure  consequent  on 
young  Willoughby's  arrival.  A  number  of  friendly 
gatherings  took  place,  and  Captains  Gilbert  and  Ord 
from  the  Chatham  garrison  were  visitors  at  Rosings. 
Still,  I  ventured  to  hope  that  though  thus  besieged, 
the  lovely  Charlotte  did  sometimes  cast  an  eye  on 
Henry,  though  Willoughby  was  ever  at  her  side.  An 
invitation  to  inspect  the  Indian  rarities  followed 
later,  and  we  drove  in  my  pony  carriage  to  Rosings, 
and  were  received  with  all  Mrs  Darcy's  obligingness. 
She  was  attended  by  her  two  daughters,  and  I  ob 
served  Charlotte's  complexion  heighten  in  the  most 
interesting  manner  as  Henry  made  his  compliments, 
though  young  Willoughby  was  by  her  side,  and  very 
much  at  his  ease.  The  young  man  is  extremely  hand- 


THE  DARCYS  OF  ROSINGS  255 

some  —  very  brown-complexioned  and  with  piercing 
eyes,  of  a  good  height  and  person.  His  manners  I 
thought  a  little  disposed  to  be  familiar ;  but  from  the 
beginning  of  the  acquaintance,  I  had  set  this  down  to 
the  account  of  an  Indian  life  and  its  freedoms.  He 
remained  fixed  to  Miss  Darcy's  chair,  a  manoeuvre 
I  could  not  see  with  comfort.  Elegant  refreshments 
—  cold  meat,  fruit,  etc.  —  were  immediately  served, 
the  Collinses  being  present  and  the  Brandons  arriving 
later. 

When  all  had  been  refreshed,  Mr  Darcy  led  the 
way  to  the  library,  and  the  curiosities  were  produced. 
The  Admiral  was  in  his  element,  and  young  Will- 
oughby  was  called  on  for  explanations  which  he  gave 
well  enough.  At  last  the  famous  Ivory  Shrine  was 
removed  from  its  glass  case,  and  set  upon  a  round 
table  where  all  could  view  it. 

I  must  now  be  particular  in  my  description.  It 
was  a  cabinet  of  the  richest  ivory,  carved  with  images 
of  idols  whose  histories  I  know  not. 

"The  thinking  mind,"  said  Mr  Collins,  "must 
lament  to  see  such  skill  lavished  on  such  a  worthless 
subject,  were  it  not  the  happy  destiny  of  this  cabinet 
to  become  an  appanage  of  the  great.  In  the  magnifi 
cent  mansions  of  our  nobles  (titled  and  untitled)  such 
objects  afford  the  instructive  contrast  of  an  inferior 
civilisation  with  all  that  is  Christian  and  elegant." 

Mr  Darcy  slightly  bowed.  He  then  threw  open 
the  doors  of  the  cabinet,  disclosing  a  surprising  ob 
ject  indeed  —  a  seated  figure  of  clumsy  proportions 
with  the  head  of  an  elephant,  supposed  by  these  poor 


256  "THE  LADIES!" 

heathen  to  be  a  god,  of  whom  the  name  escapes  me. 
This  also  was  ivory,  with  a  necklace  and  girdle  of 
small  jewels  inset.  Mr  Darcy  applied  to  young 
Willoughby,  by  his  side,  for  information  of  the  at 
tributes  of  this  strange  being,  which  he  gave  with  an 
elegance  as  much  out  of  the  common  as  his  figure, 
Mr  Darcy  following  with  the  story  of  its  acquisition 
by  his  uncle,  Mr  Lorenzo  Darcy.  We  all  drew 
near  to  examine  the  carvings,  the  hideousness  of  the 
image  precluding  admiration ;  and  Mrs  Brandon  was 
gratified,  as  she  told  me,  to  find  her  protege  distin 
guish  himself  by  his  address. 

"We  find  his  company  very  agreeable,"  she  said 
aside,  to  me  and  Mrs  Darcy.  "He  is  a  young  man 
of  parts,  and  his  travels  have  made  him  very  con- 
versible.  Our  servants  find  his  Indian  attendant, 
Tippoo,  an  endless  source  of  surprise.  He  cannot 
speak  a  word  of  English,  and  to  see  him  roll  his  black 
eyes  and  gesticulate  causes  laughter  which  pene 
trates  even  to  our  end  of  the  house." 

Mrs  Darcy  enquired  if  he  were  a  troublesome  in 
mate  on  account  of  caste  prejudices ;  but  Marianne 
assured  her  that  such  was  not  the  case.  He  was  per 
fectly  obliging. 

Still,  Sophia,  I  felt  one  should  be  on  one's  guard 
where  foreigners  are  concerned.  A  young  man, 
though  of  English  parentage,  brought  up  in  India 
and  surrounded  by  wily  Orientals,  can  scarcely  be 
expected  to  have  the  solid  principles  of  an  English 
training.  I  am  told  that  attendance  on  Divine  Serv 
ice  is  sadly  lax  among  our  wealthy  nabobs ;  that  it  is 


THE  DARCYS  OF  ROSINGS  257 

even  a  practice  to  give  entertainments  on  the  Sab 
bath,  when  other  than  sacred  music  is  performed. 
What  must  be  the  result  on  the  young  mind  ? 

The  afternoon  ended,  as  I  feared,  in  Mr  Darcy 
giving  Willoughby  an  invitation  to  spend  a  week  at 
Rosings,  that  he  might  assist  him  to  classify  his 
Indian  collection,  a  proposal  to  which  the  young  man 
instantly  agreed.  That  I  thought  it  imprudent,  I 
must  not  deny,  unless  indeed  there  were  a  settled  in 
tention  as  regards  Miss  Darcy,  since  it  would  throw 
them  so  much  together,  and  already  they  were  more 
easy  than  my  judgment  could  approve.  I  observed 
Henry's  spirits,  like  my  own,  a  little  sunk  at  such  a 
distinction,  though  to  him  also  the  manners  of  both 
Miss  Darcy's  parents  were  conciliatory  in  the  ex 
treme.  Both  have  a  generosity  of  disposition  which 
will  suspect  no  evil.  Yet,  Sophia,  we  hear  on  the 
highest  authority  that  the  wisdom  of  the  serpent  is 
equally  desirable  with  that  of  the  dove. 

Willoughby  now  became  a  guest  at  Rosings,  and 
the  parties  of  pleasure  were  fewer,  the  young  officers 
from  Chatham  having  left.  The  week  passed,  and 
the  invitation  was  extended  by  a  few  days,  the  lists 
of  Indian  rarities  still  being  unfinished. 

I  was  seated  in  the  late  afternoon  at  my  embroid 
ery  frame,  when  Mrs  Collins  was  ushered  in,  so  pale, 
so  trembling  and  overcome,  that  I  cried  without  any 
ceremony,  "Good  God !  what  is  it?"  and  fell  back  in 
terror.  She  sunk  into  a  chair  and  endeavoured  to 
collect  her  spirits,  the  Admiral  hurrying  in  from  the 
lawn.  At  length  she  spoke,  but  with  difficulty. 


258  "THE  LADIES!" 

"Miss  Darcy  is  fled  with  Willoughby !"  and  could 
utter  no  more. 

The  Admiral  hastily  fetched  a  glass  of  Constantia, 
and  on  partaking,  she  resumed  with  more  composure. 
O  Sophia,  how  express  our  feelings ! 

It  now  appeared  that,  when  Willoughby  was  sum 
moned  to  a  cold  collation,  prepared  in  view  of  an 
afternoon  excursion,  he  could  nowhere  be  found. 
Tippoo  was  called,  that  he  might  seek  his  master,  but 
to  the  consternation  of  all,  his  scanty  possessions 
were  removed  and  the  room  entirely  empty ;  and  the 
servants,  hastening  to  his  master's  chamber,  found  a 
dressing-case  known  to  stand  on  his  table  disap 
peared. 

Theft  was  the  first  suspicion,  and  Willoughby's 
presence  doubly  desirable.  Again  they  sought,  and 
in  vain.  Miss  Caroline  was  seated  with  her  mother, 
and  hearing  all  this,  she  rose  with  a  countenance  pale 
as  ashes  and  trembling  in  every  limb,  and  cried :  — 

"0  Mama,  where  is  Charlotte?  I  saw  her  last 
after  breakfast  in  the  shrubbery  with  Willoughby. 
The  lake  —  O  God,  can  it  be  possible  I" 

These  fears  at  once  communicated  themselves  to 
her  parents  and,  hastily  summoning  help,  Mr  Darcy 
ran  to  the  lake.  The  boat  was  loose  and  floating  on 
the  water,  with  an  oar  beside  it,  and  a  coat  of  Will 
oughby's  on  the  bank ;  instantly  the  worst  was  feared 
and  Tippoo  forgotten.  The  lodge-keeper  and  his  men 
were  summoned  with  drags,  poor  Mrs  Darcy  on  the 
bank  wringing  her  hands  in  speechless  affliction. 

"Thus,"  pursued  Mrs  Collins,  "were  two  valuable 


THE  DARCYS  OF  ROSINGS  259 

hours  lost  in  dragging  the  lake,  and  more  might  have 
been  the  case,  owing  to  the  success  of  this  vile  schem 
ing,  but  that  the  gamekeeper  —  Ward,  you  know, 
Ma'am  —  came  running  up  in  hot  haste.  One  of  his 
underlings  had  seen,  hours  before,  a  post-chaise 
standing  in  tjie  road  before  the  north  gate,  as  if 
awaiting  a  party,  but  took  no  particular  notice  at  the 
time.  Returning  later  to  the  east  gate,  he  observed 
the  same  post-chaise  dashing  along  at  full  speed,  and 
will  be  positive  he  saw  Miss  Darcy's  face  at  the  win 
dow  and  Willoughby  with  her.  Such  was  the  speed, 
that  he  could  say  no  more  than  that  the  driver  was  a 
dark  handsome  young  man  in  a  triple  cape.  Think 
ing  it  was  merely  one  of  the  parties  of  pleasure  which 
had  been  so  common,  he  loitered  along,  resumed  his 
work,  and  only  by  a  chance  mentioned  it  to  the  game 
keeper,  who  with  more  presence  of  mind  ran  at  once 
to  his  master. 

"O  my  dear  Lady  Sefton,"  continued  Mrs  Collins, 
"What  a  scene  of  horror  was  here !  An  elopement ! 
And  with  a  man  virtually  unknown,  and  of  whose  par 
ent  Marianne  Dashwood's  experience  was  dreadful ! 
Pursuit  was  immediately  ordered,  and  Mr  Darcy 
mounted  his  horse,  though  none  can  be  sure  what  way 
they  will  have  taken  at  the  crossroads.  Who  —  who 
could  have  supposed  this  of  a  young  lady  so  vir 
tuously  brought  up  as  Miss  Darcy?" 

"A  sly  little  jade !"  said  the  Admiral ;  and  actually 
smiled  !  Such  are  even  the  best  of  men ! 

Scarcely  able  to  articulate  for  horror,  I  was  able  to 
say:  — 


260  "THE  LADIES!" 

"True,  dear  Ma'am.  Yet  must  we  not  own  there 
was  imprudence  in  permitting  a  young  girl  of  Miss 
Darcy's  beauty  and  expectations  to  be  so  unguardedly 
in  the  company  of  Willoughby?  Forcibly  indeed 
has  that  thought  struck  me  more  than  once.  Poor 
unfortunate  parents  !  Let  us  hasten  to  condole  with 
them." 

Mrs  Collins  was  too  overcome  to  attend  us,  and 
the  Admiral  giving  me  his  arm,  we  set  off  through  the 
Park,  he  speaking  his  mind  with  the  bluffness  of  a 
sailor  on  Miss  Darcy's  behaviour.  Well  did  she 
know,  he  said,  that  her  parents  would  never  con 
sent  to  a  match  so  far  below  her  pretensions,  and 
therefore  —  But  I  dare  not  emulate  his  frankness. 

We  found  Mrs  Darcy  pale  but  composed,  a 
mounted  messenger  having  returned  from  Mr  Darcy 
with  the  news  that  he  had  heard  of  a  post-chaise 
going  at  full  galloping  speed  on  the  road  to  Merton, 
and  was  following  it  up.  He  begged  Mrs  Darcy  to 
sustain  her  spirits,  and  call  on  the  Admiral  for  aid  if 
occasion  should  arise  in  his  absence. 

O  Sophia,  how  describe  the  looks  of  fear  and  horror 
which  surrounded  us  on  all  sides  in  that  hitherto  so 
happy  household !  Caroline  fainted  in  her  mother's 
arms  and  was  instantly  conveyed  to  her  room,  where 
we  attended  her  until  consciousness  was  restored  and 
misery  with  it.  The  Admiral  employed  himself  in 
the  library,  in  questioning  the  men  and  women,  with 
a  view  to  discover  some  more  certain  clew  to  pursuit, 
or  possibly  some  accomplice,  his  experience  as  presi 
dent  of  courts-martial  standing  him  in  such  good 


THE  DARCYS  OF  ROSINGS  261 

stead  that  he  terrified  them  all,  and  I  feel  certain,  had 
any  been  a  party  to  the  flight,  it  must  have  been 
known.  So  valuable  is  manly  presence  of  mind  in 
such  emergencies  !  Nothing,  however,  transpired. 

Time  advanced,  and  Mrs  Darcy  requested  we 
would  remain.  The  shades  of  night  darkened,  and 
still  no  news.  It  was  impossible  not  to  admire  Mrs 
Darcy 's  fortitude,  for  indeed  this  must  have  forcibly 
recalled  the  time  when  her  sister  Mrs  Wickham  (as  I 
have  learnt  from  Marianne  Dashwood)  made  the 
fatal  elopement  with  Wickham  which  has  secured 
her  a  lifetime  of  wretched  poverty  and  uneasiness.  I 
readily  understood  her  deplorable  appearance  at  the 
Sundale  inn  on  hearing  her  story.  Fatal  indeed, 
Sophia,  are  the  steps  of  female  error,  and  how  im 
possible  to  be  retrieved ! 

We  are  not  to  judge  Providence,  yet  it  certainly 
appears  that  masculine  imprudences  are  viewed  more 
leniently  from  on  high.  Rectitude,  no  doubt,  is 
demanded  from  all ;  but  it  must  be  owned  the  con 
sequences  are  less  severe  when  a  man  forsakes  the 
narrow  path  of  virtue.  As  the  Admiral  frequently 
observes  —  woman  is  the  weaker  vessel  and  there 
fore  much  more  is  rightly  expected  from  her,  and  the 
punishment  justly  more  severe,  as  we  observe  in  the 
case  of  Eve  and  other  examples  for  our  learning. 
This,  however,  is  a  bewildering  subject,  and  more 
suited  to  my  dear  Admiral's  understanding,  so  I  pur 
sue  it  no  further. 

We  were  all  unable  to  eat,  and  were  sitting  listless 
in  the  parlour  as  midnight  approached,  when  my  ear 


262  "THE  LADIES!" 

caught  the  gallop  of  a  horse.  "Mr  Darcy  !"  I  cried, 
starting  to  my  feet  and  trembling  with  agitation. 

Mrs  Darcy,  exercising  an  almost  superhuman 
composure,  sat  rigidly  in  her  chair.  The  door  was 
flung  open  and  in  rushed  Mr  Wickham  —  disordered 
with  speed  and  riding,  but  recognisable  to  me  as  the 
handsome,  dissipated-looking  man  we  had  seen  at  the 
inn  at  Sundale.  He  seized  Mrs  Darcy's  almost  life 
less  hand  and  cried  :  "Courage,  Ma'am  !  She  is  safe. 
She  is  with  Mrs  Wickham  at  Sundale,  and  the  mis 
creant  fled." 

How  is  it  possible,  Sophia,  that  I  should  describe 
the  scene  that  ensued  ? 

Hearing  the  commotion,  Caroline  tottered  down 
stairs  and  swooned  again  at  our  feet,  yet  was  scarcely 
heeded  —  all  crowding  round  Wickham,  who  oblig 
ingly  soothed  our  anxiety. 

"When,"  he  said,  "the  officers  of  our  regiment  re 
turned  to  Chatham  from  the  enjoyment  of  Mr 
Darcy's  hospitality,  the  incidents  of  their  stay  were 
naturally  broached,  and  Willoughby  spoken  of. 
Nothing,  however,  transpired  until  Colonel  Vaughan 
returned  from  leave,  when  the  subject  happened  to 
come  up  again.  'But,  good  God,  who  is  this?'  cried 
Colonel  Vaughan.  'Young  Willoughby  died  eight 
months  ago  at  Calcutta,  and  was  an  only  child.  My 
own  brother  attended  his  obsequies.  Who  can  this 
person  be?'  All  was  astonishment.  His  brother, 
Mr  James  Vaughan,  was  hastily  summoned  from  his 
residence  in  the  Dockyard,  and  fully  confirmed  this, 
he  having  lately  returned  from  India.  He  looked 


THE  DARCYS  OF  ROSINGS  263 

very  gravely  upon  the  matter,  and  mentioned  that 
Mr  Willoughby,  senior,  had  formed  years  ago  an 
illicit  connection  with  a  Portuguese  female,  of  which 
there  were  two  sons  of  most  disreputable  character. 
I  waited  not  to  hear  more,  but  called  for  my  horse, 
and  in  regimentals,  as  you  see  me,  rode  at  full  speed 
for  Sundale,  where  Mrs  Wickham  was  awaiting  me 
for  the  Sundale  Steeplechase,  that  being  the  nearest 
way  here." 

Mrs  Darcy  pressed  his  hand,  but  was  still  unable 
to  speak.  He  proceeded  :  — 

"It  was  now  almost  dusk  and  she  pressed  a  little 
necessary  refreshment  on  me  in  the  inn  parlour.  I 
was  swallowing  it  hastily,  when  a  post-chaise  drew 
up  at  the  door  and  a  man  alighted,  supporting  in  his 
arms  an  almost  senseless  female,  a  large  veil  conceal 
ing  her  bonnet  and  face.  He  called  for  a  private 
room  and  refreshment  in  a  haughty  impatient  tone, 
and  was  turning  to  the  stair  with  his  burden,  when, 
struggling  from  his  arms,  she  tottered  toward  Mrs. 
Wickham  exclaiming,  '  O  Aunt  Lydia,  save  me  — 
save  me !'  and  dropped  at  her  feet." 

A  sob  broke  from  Mrs  Darcy's  pale  lips,  but  still 
she  spoke  not. 

"Mrs  Wickham  removed  her  veil,  and  there  was 
Miss  Darcy,  in  a  truly  pitiable  condition.  The 
baffled  villain,  little  thinking  how  he  had  run  into  a 
trap  of  his  own  making,  stood  one  second  a  mask  of 
terror.  I  made  for  him  instantly,  sword  in  hand, 
but  he  ran  with  the  speed  of  lightning  through  the 
ostler's  yard  and  was  lost  in  the  beech  woods  behind. 


264  "THE  LADIES!" 

I  gave  directions  for  search  to  be  made  and  returned 
to  the  ladies." 

Mrs  Darcy  lifted  his  hand  in  both  hers  and  pressed 
it  to  her  lips.  "  The  hand  that  saved  my  Charlotte  ! " 
was  all  she  could  murmur ;  and  indeed  we  were  all  in 
tears  of  thankfulness  and  joy.  Mr  Wickham's  own 
manly  tones  trembled  as  he  resumed :  - 

"Between  the  agitations  that  ensued,  the  dear  girl 
told  us  how  he  had  forced  her  into  the  post-chaise  and 
driven  off  at  full  speed,  determined  so  to  compromise 
her  that  a  marriage  would  be  insisted  on,  or  even 
besought  by  her  parents.  He  had  sent  a  decoy  chaise 
on  the  Merton  road,  and  driven  furiously  to  Sundale, 
counting  on  the  coast  being  clear.  I  waited  not, 
however,  to  hear  more,  but  left  her  in  Mrs  Wickham's 
arms,  and  rode  on  hither." 

"Brother,  you  are  weary  —  famished  !"  cried  Mrs 
Darcy,  ever  considerate.  "Are  we  to  have  no 
thought  for  you,  who  have  had  so  much  for  us  ?  I 
knew  —  I  knew  my  Charlotte  could  not  so  fearfully 
be  lost  to  all  sense  of  propriety,  and  knowing  this, 
can  now  recover.  Oh,  could  my  Darcy  but  know  his 
girl  is  safe !" 

0  Sophia,  what  a  scene  was  here  —  all  pressing 
refreshments  on  our  deliverer  —  all  joyful  excitement. 
The  only  element  lacking,  dear  Mr  Darcy's  presence  ! 
And  two  hours  later,  —  for  none  could  go  to  rest,  — 
that  also  was  supplied ;  for  finding  his  pursuit  of  the 
Merton  chaise  mistaken,  he  returned  home,  drooping 
and  almost  despairing,  in  the  faint  hope  of  tidings. 

Words  sink  beneath  the  effort  to  describe  his  manly 


THE  DARCYS  OF  ROSINGS  265 

gratitude  to  Wickham,  and  the  relief  of  hearing  he 
had  not  been  deceived  in  his  belief  in  Miss  Darcy's 
principles.  Never  have  I  seen  his  majesty  of  de 
meanour  so  softened.  He  also  addressed  Mr  Wick- 
ham  as  "Brother,"  and  the  latter  was  profoundly 
touched.  If  I  mistake  not,  this  will  be  an  epoch 
in  his  career  and  that  of  his  unhappy  wife.  Mr 
Darcy's  is  a  spirit  that  will  never  leave  an  obliga 
tion  unacknowledged.  They  rode  together  next  day 
to  escort  Mrs  Wickham  and  the  interesting  victim  to 
Rosings  —  Miss  Darcy  in  a  pitiable  condition,  but 
yet  fully  sensible  of  her  safety. 

"On  such  occasions,"  observed  Mr  Collins  to  the 
Admiral,  "it  cannot  be  denied  that  a  special  Provi 
dence  appears  to  attend  the  great.  Had  Miss  Darcy 
been  a  humbler  female,  had  she  not  been  possessed  of 
relatives  willing  and  able  to  defend  her,  what  might 
not  have  been  dreaded!  This  leads  us  to  devout 
admiration  of  the  discriminating  bounties  of  heaven, 
so  well  bestowed  where  most  needed  and  deserved. 
For  what,  Sir  Charles,  is  the  downfall  of  a  female  of 
low  birth,  however  worthy,  compared  with  that  of  a 
young  lady  who  has  adorned  elevated  circles  and  is 
the  cynosure  of  all  eyes  and  hearts  ! " 

The  dear  Admiral  owned  to  me  later  that  this  ex 
ordium  so  bewildered  him  that  he  knew  not  "at  which 
end  to  take  hold  of  it,"  to  use  his  own  expression.  I 
feel  the  difficulty  myself. 

The  public  prints  will  have  informed  my  Sophia 
that  the  miscreant  escaped,  and  that  it  is  now  known 
the  pair  were  brothers,  a  dark  stain  for  the  com- 


266  "THE  LADIES!" 

plexion  having  converted  the  younger  into  the  at 
tendant,  for  the  visit  to  Hunsdon.  Reassuming  his 
own  appearance,  he  acted  as  the  driver  and  was  of 
course  wholly  in  his  brother's  interest  in  securing  a 
wealthy  prize  in  Miss  Darcy.  What  machinations, 
and  what  a  deliverance ! 

Mrs  Darcy,  who  is  all  candour,  said  later  to  me 
that  she  had  suspected  the  beginning  of  an  attach 
ment  in  my  Henry's  mind,  and  that,  if  it  were  so  — 
Here  she  hesitated  in  the  most  interesting  manner. 

I  took  her  hand  in  mine.  "Hesitate  not  to  open 
the  subject,  my  dear  Ma'am,"  said  I,  "for  I  can  con 
firm  your  view.  Henry  is  deeply,  deeply  interested 
in  your  sweet  girl  —  poor  lovely  innocent !  And  if 
there  is  any  hope  - 

It  was  my  turn  to  hesitate.  She  resumed  more 
calmly :  — 

"Then,  if  it  be  so,  Lady  Sefton,  I  may  speak 
plainly.  Candour  is  a  necessity  of  Mr  Darcy's  char 
acter  and  mine.  I  cannot  deny  that  Charlotte's 
imagination  was  touched,  however  slightly,  by  Will- 
oughby's  romantic  tales  and  appearance.  Young 
minds  are  susceptible  - 

Indeed,  Sophia,  there  was  a  false  glitter  about  him 
which  I,  for  one,  instantly  distrusted;  but  the  in 
experience  of  the  young  will  ever  be  a  danger.  I  said 
as  much  and  she  continued  :  — 

"Calm  recollection  and  these  frightful  events  have, 
however,  wrought  a  complete  cure  and  a  revulsion  of 
feeling  which  has  turned  her  mind  to  Mr  Sefton's 
worth  with  full  appreciation.  If  later  —  much  later 


THE  DARCYS  OF  ROSINGS  267 

—  he  should  make  an  application,  I  believe  he  might 
hope  for  a  success  which  I  venture  not  to  promise. 
Her  parents  are  also  to  blame  for  incaution.  But  the 
future  may  yet  be  all  brightness." 

As  for  Henry,  his  affection  is  unaltered,  and  per 
haps  deepened,  by  these  occurrences.  And  it  has 
impressed  me,  Sophia,  that  possibly  Mr  and  Mrs 
Darcy  might  have  had  more  exalted  aspirations  for 
their  lovely  heiress  than  a  mere  baronet's  son  had  not 
this  shade  fallen  on  her  opening  flower.  I  think  it  is 
the  Swan  of  Avon  who  observes  that  there  is  a  soul  of 
goodness  in  things  evil,  and  so  it  may  have  proved  in 
this  instance. 

As  to  Marianne  Brandon,  the  whole  affair  has  cost 
her  a  severe  illness,  in  which  she  incessantly  deplored 
her  own  impulsive  nature,  though  all  did  their  utmost 
to  mitigate  the  blow.  "Shall  I  never  acquire  the 
calm  judgment  and  sober  reason  which  alone  can  pre 
serve  from  such  errors?"  was  her  cry.  "Surely  I, 
who  have  so  much  reason  to  distrust  the  name  of 
Willoughby,  should  have  hesitated  to  introduce  one 
of  that  fatal  race  to  the  notice  of  friends." 

I  fear  she  will  never  forgive  herself;  but  it  may 
prove  a  warning  to  a  being  whose  only  fault  is  in 
caution,  and  a  too  warm  belief  in  human  nature. 
The  Colonel  is,  and  will  be,  her  unfailing  support. 

Although  nothing  definite  has  yet  been  said,  the 
Admiral  is  now  inspecting  Hoddesden  House,  with  a 
view  to  our  young  couple's  occupation,  and  I  hope  ere 
long  to  send  you  the  joyful  news  of  the  addition  of  a 
daughter  to  my  comforts. 


268  " THE  LADIES!" 

I  should  not  conclude  without  dwelling  on  the 
danger  of  insufficient  introductions ;  and  something 
might  also  be  said  of  the  impiety  of  admitting  false 
gods  to  adorn  a  Christian  library,  even  as  objects  of 
art.  But  my  Sophia  is  well  able  to  draw  her  own 
conclusions  and  her  affectionate  sister  will  now,  with 
all  good  wishes  and  endearing  thoughts,  conclude. 

ANNE  SEFTON. 

Postscriptum.  —  Mr  and  Mrs  Wickham  are  now 
visiting  at  Rosings. 


McGRATH-SHERRILL    PRESS 

GRAPHIC  ARTS  BLDG. 

BOSTON 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


n  LD 

ADD    1   ^  1Q^7 

fllr  K  1  <J  KW*-« 

l\l     *  * 

FEB  1  7  1996 

RECEIVED 

NOV  3  0  1995 

CIRCULATION  DEP 

T. 

LD  21-100TO-6,'56 
(B9311slO)476 


General  Library 

University  of  California 

Berkeley 


l^lll«liMiiiiiliiiBRARIES 

CDSbD713fll 


M180055 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


